


Where the Heart Is

by staringatthesky



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Friendship, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Love, Siblings, happy ending I promise, warning for child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 143,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatthesky/pseuds/staringatthesky
Summary: Because sometimes family is what you make it, and home is where the heart is. Emmett knows his life isn't perfect. Home is chaotic, school is a mess, and his little sister Alice keeps wetting the bed. But they have each other and they're getting by okay...until one day they're not, and amongst all the changes Emmett has to learn what makes a family and what makes a home.





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, again! I’m back with something different, and I hope some of you enjoy it. This is another all-human story, about Emmett finding his feet and his place in the world, and finding out what it’s like to fall in love. It’s a story about family and the ties that bind, and how it’s not always blood that matters.  
> As always, reviews/questions/comments more than welcome!  
> ~ Rebecca

“McCarty! Heads up!”

I look up just in time to catch the baseball hurtling towards my face. “Hey, watch it!”

Harrison grins unrepentantly. “We’re going over to Clint’s place to play some video games…you in?”

I toss the ball back across the hallway, a little harder than necessary. I wish I could go with him and hang out with the guys, but… “Not today.”

Harrison shrugs and heads off, calling out to another friend along the way. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and go in the other direction, breaking into a jog as I leave the high school grounds. After a day spent inside a classroom it feels good to be out in the crisp fall afternoon.

I reach the elementary school just in time to hear the final bell and see a swarm of noisy kids rush out into the playground. I wait in the usual place by the monkey bars for my sister Alice, but I don’t see her until she’s right beside me. She’s tiny for a five year old, and easily lost in a crowd.

“Emmett!” She greets me the same way she always does, with a beaming smile, as if I’ve made her day just by being there. “Look what I found on the playground this morning! And Miss Caspar said I could keep it!”

Alice digs into the small zippered pocket on her bookbag and proudly shows me her treasure, a fifty cent piece. “It’s real money! And it’s enough for candy, right?” She looks at me anxiously. “We can go to the store before we go home? I’ll share, I promise.”

I grin down at her. “Sure, we can go to the store. But we have to go by the church first, okay?”

“Okay!” Alice keeps a tight fist around her money as we head towards the church spire we can see several blocks away, half trotting and half skipping to keep up with my much longer stride

I only half listen to her chatter. I’m worrying about whether we’ll get to the church hall before it closes, and if there will be some food that Alice likes in the box. The Friday food parcels are always a bit of a crapshoot- by the end of the week they’re often running low on the basics. It’s usually better to go earlier in the week. But Momma promised she’d go to the store and even put the list I wrote into her purse, so it wasn’t until I poured Alice the last of the cereal and added water because we were out of milk this morning that I had realised that we’d be paying another visit to the church food pantry.

The doors are closed when we finally reach the church hall. I stop at the edge of the parking lot and bite my knuckles, wondering if I’ll be able to dig up enough spare change at home to at least buy a box of cereal or some ramen. I had to skip breakfast this morning, and even though I’ve eaten a big lunch at school I’m still starving.

“It’s Mrs Esme!” Alice interrupts my thoughts with a shout and then takes off running through the parking lot, her oversize backpack bouncing.

“Alice, come back!”

It’s too late though. Mrs Cullen, the only person in the lot, has already heard her and is smiling a welcome, crouching down to Alice’s height to talk to her.

Crossing the tarmac I can’t help feeling awkward. Mrs Cullen is the nicest of the volunteers at the church pantry and has always been kind to us, but she’s obviously finished for the day and ready to go home. Alice and I are only holding her up.

“Hey Mrs Cullen, we were just on our way home,” I say.

“We came for food,” Alice says with five year old honesty, and I feel my ears get hot with embarrassment.

“They’re closed Alice,” I mumble. “Mrs Cullen’s going home now.”

I say it, but despite my embarrassment over the situation I’m relieved when she shakes her head and says, “I’m not in any hurry, and we have some leftovers today that I’d hate to see go to waste. Come inside and I’ll fix you up.”

I don’t hesitate. It‘s Friday, and without free school lunches over the next two days we need the food.

Alice talks away a mile a minute as we trail after Mrs Cullen into the church hall, and then through the swinging door into the kitchen. She babbles about anything and everything- her school reading book, the way her teacher always wears a charm bracelet, the party she didn’t get an invitation too, the latest episode of her favourite show. Mrs Cullen asks all the right questions and makes all the right comments, and Alice beams at the attention.

“I’m really glad the two of you stopped by today,” Mrs Cullen says to me, unlocking the storeroom. She disappears for a moment and then comes back with a bulging grocery sack that she presses into my arms. “Here you go. Now, as well as the food I was wondering if Alice would like some new clothes for the fall? I’m in charge of the church’s community closet you see, and we have so much in there that I’m having trouble organising it all! I’d love to see some of it go to a good home.”

I look at Alice, noticing for the first time that the t-shirt she’s wearing is a little short, and her leggings are faded and have a hole in one knee. Momma has always loved buying Alice clothes and she’s always had an overflowing closet, but things have changed over the past year and there haven’t been any more new clothes for a while. As little as Alice is she must have grown a bit since last winter, and with colder weather approaching she’s going to need something that fits. I shrug with embarrassment, and then a little reluctantly nod at Mrs Cullen.

“She’ll probably like that.”

“What about it Alice?” Mrs Cullen asks. “Can we take a look and see if there’s a coat you like? Maybe some jeans?”

“Yes!” Alice drops her backpack and skips alongside Mrs Cullen to the storeroom out the back. I follow them, finding myself in a room that’s lined with shelves and crowded with racks that are all bulging with clothes.

“We just had a clothing drive, and as you can see if was quite successful,” Mrs Cullen says cheerfully, flipping rapidly through a rack of girls’ pants. “I think these will be your size Alice…perhaps you could try them on?”

Alice strips off to her underwear without a second thought, and I have to laugh as she wriggles into a pair of jeans with sparkles on them and dances in front of the mirror. “They’re the most beautiful jeans in the whole world!” she crows.

Mrs Cullen smiles. “They’re perfect for you.” She takes some other pants off the rack and slips them into a plastic bag, adding a few other pieces from the shelves.

I take a quick inventory of what we’ve received in the food parcel. It’s a good day. I count two kinds of cereal, powdered milk, peanut butter, pasta, crackers, and canned vegetables and tuna. Apart from the vegetables and tuna, it’s all things Alice will eat.

“Some good things?”

I jump as Mrs Cullen speaks up beside me.

“Oh…yeah, thanks. It’s good.” I grin at her a little bashfully. Mrs Cullen is the nicest out of all the people who work at the church food pantry, and we’ve seen her a lot over the last year or so. She’s always friendly, and even though we’re here taking charity she never makes me feel like shit about it. She’s always especially nice to Alice too, listening to all her talk and remembering stories from one time to the next, and Alice loves her.

“I’ve told Alice she can choose a jacket,” Mrs Cullen says, nodding at where Alice is hopping on one foot and gazing indecisively at three different jackets laid out on a chair. “Don’t hurry her,” she adds quickly, “I’m not in any hurry.”

“Thanks for all that,” I say. “It’s really…it’s good.”

There’s a long pause before Mrs Cullen says gently, “Emmett, are things all right at home? I haven’t seen your mother for a while, and you and Alice have been here quite often. You’re welcome anytime, of course, but…I just wanted to check in.”

She smiles at me, and even though I think she’s being a little nosy her concern feels good. Because things aren’t really all that great at home, and sometimes I feel pretty damn alone with all the worry.

I can’t tell her though, so I only shrug and bite my knuckles. “It’s okay. Momma’s just been kind of busy, that’s all. I take care of Alice.”

“You do a good job at that,” Mrs Cullen says. “She’s a lovely little girl and she’s lucky to have you…but who takes care of you?”

I bite down harder. What is there to say? I take care of Alice, and I take care of myself, and that’s just the way it is. “We do all right,” I say at last.

Mrs Cullen nods. “I’m sure you do. But just in case you ever need some help, or even just someone to talk to, I want you to take my number. Okay?”

She hands me a scrap of paper with her name and number on it, and I scrunch it down in the pocket of my jeans with a mumbled thanks. For a moment I wish I _could_ tell her everything that’s been going on and ask her what I should do, but that way lies nothing but trouble. So I just give her a weak smile and gathered up my things.

“Come on Alice,” I say with forced cheerfulness. “If you want to get some candy on the way home you’d better pick a coat now. It’s time to go.”

_____________________________________________________

We live in an old, rundown farmhouse on the edge of town, and as Alice and I walk down the long driveway my stomach tightens with anxiety. I’m never sure what I’m going to find. Even Alice’s endless chattering dies down as we climb the porch steps, and she moves close enough to me to hold onto a fold of my jeans.

We don’t have to worry today though. As soon as I open the front door the unmistakable scent of weed hits my nose, and I let out a breath that I haven’t even realised I’ve been holding, and grin down at Alice.

“It should be okay.”

Alice nods solemnly, and the two of us enter the house and pick our way through the junk in the hallway. The tv is playing loudly in the living room, but I still hear Momma’s husky voice calling out to us.

“Hey baby…aren’t you going to come and say hi?”

“Hi Momma.” I pause in the living room doorway. Momma’s on the sofa, and her boyfriend Mark is staring at the tv from the recliner. He does nothing more than throw a bored glance my way as I cross the room to Momma and give her a hug. She feels rail thin under her sweater, almost as light and fragile as Alice.

“Where have you been?” she asks sleepily.

“It’s Friday…I was at school,” I say.

“Oh yeah, school,” Momma says vaguely. “Did you have a good day?”

A failed quiz, a D in math, and a lunchtime detention for not having my science homework done… “Yeah it was fine.”

Alice sidles in, giving Mark a wide berth, and hovers uncertainly next to me. It isn’t until Momma smiles and holds out her arms that Alice drops her bags and scrambles onto the sofa.

“I found money and bought candy,” she tells Momma. “And me and Emmett went to the church and Mrs Esme gave me clothes, but not Emmett. Look, I’ll show you.” She jumps down and grabs the plastic bag of clothes, beginning to pull things out.

I leave them to it and carry the grocery sack to the kitchen. I set it down on the counter for Momma, but only after I transfer the powdered milk, one of the boxes of cereal, the peanut butter and some crackers to my school backpack. I never feel comfortable without a little stash of food in my room.

I spend the rest of the afternoon lying on my bed eating crackers and watching tv, but as night begins to fall and I hear the sounds of cars driving up and people coming into the house I get up and go looking for Alice. Momma and Mark have a lot of friends that like to party at our house, since it’s far enough out of town that there are no close neighbours to complain, and it’s definitely not the kind of partying that I think five year olds should be joining in with.

I find Alice sitting under the kitchen table, happily sharing a slice of pizza with someone’s dog. I let her finish while I wolf down a couple of slices myself, then I swipe some beer and usher her firmly down the hall to our room. She’s not keen to leave the dog, but when I tell her she can watch Frozen, that’s enough to get her into our room and looking through the pile of movie and game cases in front of the tv for her Frozen dvd.

Knowing how these parties usually go, I jam my baseball bat in between my bed and the door so that no one is going to open it from the outside. I’m not scared, but I’m also not that keen to repeat the experience of waking up to a naked stranger asleep on the floor with his head in a puddle of puke.

The familiar strains of the opening song from Frozen begin. Alice sings along as she swaps her worn out school clothes for a pink, furry onesie with cat ears and a tail- evidently some new pyjamas from Mrs Cullen. The pyjamas inspire her to crawl all around our room, meowing at me like a cat until I pet her, but eventually I manage to get her into her pink princess bed and watching the movie. When I flick off the overhead light she settles back down against her pillow, her thumb in her mouth and her fuzzy bunny hugged in her arms as she stares at the tv.

Alice used to sleep in her own room. It was right down the hall, next to Momma’s room, with old fashioned wallpaper and all her toys and dolls and pink princess crap spread over the floor. It’s still there. But then Mark moved in, and Alice was scared of him and her bed wetting got worse, and then Momma stopped being Momma a lot of the time, and it just seemed like a good idea for me to drag Alice’s plastic kid’s bed down into my room and let her sleep with me.

At least this way I know she’s safe.

I crack open a beer and drink it, staring blindly at the tv. I hate the way the noise of the party keeps encroaching on my peaceful buzz, and I turn up the sound of the Frozen soundtrack to block it out. I listen to Alice humming along and down a second beer, and I start feeling relaxed. My life might not be exactly tv worthy, but me and Alice…we’re doing okay.

I feel as though I’ve only just fallen asleep when I hear her voice, dragging me back to wakefulness.

“Emmett…Emmett…”

I roll over with a groan and force my eyelids open, finding Alice standing by my bed with a thumb in her mouth and her bunny clutched against her chest.

“Emmett…I had an accident,” she whispers. “My new pyjamas are all wet.”

“’S okay,” I mumble. “I’ll take care of it.”

Still half asleep, I haul myself out of bed and strip the damp sheets from her bed, bundling them together with the wet clothes that she hands me. In the flickering light from the tv I can see her lower lip trembling, which is unusual. Alice is a chronic bed wetter, and I have never made a big deal out of it.

“I didn’t want to mess up my new pyjamas,” she says softly. “Don’t tell Mrs Esme that I did that.”

“I won’t.” I touch the side of her face. “It’s really okay Alice. Just get dressed and I’ll grab you another sheet.”

The party is still going on, but it’s died down enough that most people are sticking to the kitchen and living room, and I don’t meet anyone as I stumble to the laundry. I throw Alice’s wet sheet and pyjamas into the machine, add soap and start it running, and then dig out a clean sheet from the dryer to take back to our room.

Alice is wearing a t-shirt of mine like a giant nightshirt and is already asleep again, face down on my bed with her knees tucked under her and her butt in the air. I tug the new sheet into place on her bed and then transfer Alice to it, as gently as I can in an effort not to wake her again. She stirs for a moment, but then her groping hand finds her bunny and her other hand makes its way to her mouth so she can suck her thumb, and she’s quiet. I drape a blanket over her and then go back to my bed, wishing that I found it as easy to fall asleep as Alice does.

She’s my only sister, she’s a sweet kid and I love her, but sometimes the weight of her feels like an awfully heavy burden on my heart.

 


	2. Candy

It’s the sun that wakes me the next morning, shining bright on my face through the uncurtained window. Yawning, I stretch and sit up, surprised to see how long Alice has left me to sleep without waking me to help her with her breakfast. I think that she must have found some leftover food from the party, and hoping that there’s something good left, I pull on my jeans and go in search.

I pick my way carefully down the hall. Our house isn’t exactly clean and tidy at the best of times, but after a party there’s trash everywhere. Bottles, cans, spilled food and garbage are all over the floor, and the air reeks of stale smoke. I kick open the front door as I pass it, hoping for a bit of fresh air, and since I can hear the television playing cartoons in the living room I head that way to find Alice.

“Hey, are you hungry? We got some new cereal yesterday and…”

I never finish the sentence. Because instead of sitting up on the sofa, sucking her thumb and watching cartoons like I’m expecting, Alice is slumped in a motionless little heap by the coffee table, and my whole world implodes.

“Alice!”

In a second I’m across the room, cradling my sister in my arms as I lift her on to the sofa. Alice’s eyelids are drooping over eyes that have rolled back in her head, and her skin is white and clammy, tinged blue around her lips. Under my hand, her heartbeat feels fast and irregular.

 _What the fuck is happening?_ I look wildly around the room, searching for answers, or help, or _something_. What’s wrong with her? How can she suddenly be so sick?

_Alice, what’s wrong with you?_

I don’t have to look far though. The coffee table’s right beside me, and the mess strewn across it tells the story clearly. The usual aftermath of Momma and Mark’s parties, sticky booze and traces of powder, the ends of joints, a handful of pills scattered amongst bottles and cans and leftover pizza and candy…

_The fucking candy._

If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a million times. _Don’t touch any of that shit._ I’ve made her promise that she won’t ever eat anything without checking with me first. I’ve even shown her… _this, or this, or this one Monkey…you don’t ever touch it, right? It’ll make you sick…promise me you won’t touch. Just stay away from it._

But she’s never been able to say no to candy.

I scrabble through the mess on the table, finding pills like tiny little poison prizes in between the candy. But I don’t know what any of them are, and I don’t know how much Alice might have swallowed with her sweets.

“Alice, come on…” I grab her shoulder and shake her, my fear mounting with every second that she lies there so limp and unresponsive. “Monkey, please…oh fuck, Alice…”

My stomach is so tight with nerves that I can hardly breathe. Desperately I slap Alice’s cheek, hard enough to briefly darken it to pink, but she doesn’t even stir. Choking back my fear, I roll her onto her side and run to Momma’s room.

“Momma…” I hesitate in the doorway. Momma’s asleep, sprawled out in a tangle of blankets on the bed, Mark snoring beside her. The room smells of unwashed sheets and smoke, and when I see the crack pipe by the bed I feel sick. None of the shit they use is good news, but crack fucks everything up. Crack makes Momma crazy and Mark vicious, but Alice needs help and I force myself to cross the room and kneel by the bed.

“Momma.” I try to shake her awake without disturbing Mark, but it’s useless. She’s almost as unresponsive as Alice, and in sheer frustration I raise my voice, “Momma!”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole!” Next to Momma, Mark rouses himself enough to half sit up and glare at me. “Get out!”

He’s never done anything for me in the whole time he’s lived here, but this time it matters. “Alice is…”

I don’t know why I bother. Mark’s lived with us for three years, and the best description of his attitude towards me is barely restrained hostility. Waking him the morning after a party is enough to tip him over the edge, and before I can say anything else he backhands me square across the mouth.

_Fuck._

My eyes sting with tears of pain and surprise, and when I put my hand to my lip my fingers come away spotted with blood. But I can’t even think about it now, and wiping my forearm across my mouth I bolt back to the living room.

Alice lies almost exactly as I left her, the deepening blue tinge to her skin the only change. I try one final, futile time to wake her before I close my eyes in defeat and pick up the phone.

“Hello, 911. What is your emergency?”

“My sister is…she’s unconscious.” My voice shakes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s all right, we’ll get some help out to you. I need a little information though…what’s your name?”

“Emmett.”

“Okay Emmett, I’m Linda. Can you tell me what’s happening? How old is your sister? Where is she now?”

“She’s on the sofa. I found her…she’s five, and I think…please, I need you to help her!” Beside me Alice starts making a noise that’s half retching, half choking, and I’m terrified she’s about to stop breathing altogether.

“Give me your address and we’ll get someone out there as soon as we can.” Linda sounds calm and reassuring as she repeats our address back to me and then says, “I’m going to stay on the line with you until they get there, Emmett. Now, you said your sister is five? How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Okay, that’s good. Now, how is your sister’s breathing…what’s her name?”

“Her name’s Alice. She’s breathing, but it’s weird…not like normal. It keeps changing from really fast to hardly there to this kind of noise…”

“That’s okay, it’s good that she’s breathing. What else can you tell me? Is there any blood? Is it possible she has a head injury of some kind?”

“No, it’s not that. I woke up and just found her in the living room, unconscious on the floor.” I swallow hard, years of secrecy making my throat feel tight as I choke out, “It’s…I think she ate something she shouldn’t have. Drugs.”

“Prescription drugs, or something else?” Linda asks, as calm and steady as ever. “Can you be more specific?”

“I don’t know. Not prescription…not her prescription, I mean, there are a bunch of pills and some…maybe crack…weed…I don’t know.” I bite down hard on my knuckles.

“That’s okay Emmett, don’t panic. The ambulance is on the way. Can you roll your sister onto her side? We want to make sure her airways are clear, especially if she vomits.”

“I did that already…I remembered from the first aid unit in gym…”

“Great Emmett, that’s a big help. Now, I’m asking you if you think the paramedics will be safe to come in and see Alice? Are there other people around? Are there any weapons?” Linda asks placidly.

I press my knuckles so hard against my mouth that the split Mark had made in my lip minutes before widens, and I taste blood. “No, there’s just me and Alice...I mean, there’s…I don’t know where…he has a, a, shotgun and a…handgun, I think, but…they’re asleep, Momma and Mark…so it’s okay…” I know I sound like I’m losing it, and I force myself to stop and take a deep breath before I go on. “It’s safe for the paramedics to come in. Please…she really needs help.”

“They’re just a few minutes away Emmett. How is Alice? Is she still unconscious?”

I push Alice’s tangled hair away from her face with a shaking hand. “Yes. She’s…oh wait, I can hear the ambulance.”

“Fantastic Emmett. Make sure Alice is safe where she is, and then you can put the phone down and go and meet them,” Linda instructs me.

I don’t say goodbye. I’m halfway out to the porch by the time she finishes speaking, and I just abandon the phone on the hall table as I fling open the door to usher in the paramedics.

“Emmett? You called it in?”

“Yeah…I found her like this when I woke up.” I fight to keep my voice from shaking.

The two paramedics are brisk and efficient as they stride through the mess and into the living room behind me. They bend over Alice and assess her quickly, murmuring to each other.

“Emmett?” One of the EMTs, an older woman with round glasses and a ponytail, straightens up and looks around. I see her face twitch when she looks at the remnants of the party on the low table by the sofa, but she gives me a quick half smile and says calmly. “Do you think Alice ingested something from here?”

I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know for sure, but it’s the only thing I can think of. There’s candy there too…and if she was eating candy while she was watching tv she might have picked up something else instead and not realised.”

“Do you know what they are? You need to tell us; we’ll be able to help your sister a lot better if we know what she’s taken. Now isn’t the time to hide anything Emmett, it’s too important.” Her eyes bore into mine.

“I don’t know,” I say wretchedly. “They’re not mine! Momma might know, but…”

“We ought to hurry and take her in; she doesn’t look good.” The second paramedic rises to her feet, scooping Alice up into her arms. “The cops can sort out the who and the what later on.”

The cops! The enormity of what’s happening is making me dizzy. Momma’s already going to be furious with me for involving outsiders, but if the police end up coming to the house because of this Mark is going to absolutely murder me.

I don’t have any time to think about it though. The paramedics are already hustling back to the ambulance, Alice held securely in their arms, and I can’t let her go anywhere without me. I grab her stuffed rabbit from where she’s dropped it, shove my bare feet into a pair of my old sneakers I’d left by the door, and run after them.

“I’m coming with her.”

The one carrying Alice nods towards the front of the ambulance. “Okay, hop in.”

I climb into the front, immediately twisting around to check on Alice in the back. She looks as colourless as the sheet behind her head as they lie her on the gurney, and impossibly small and sick under the oxygen mask they apply to her face. I swallow hard around the lump in my throat and bite my knuckles as the ambulance begins to bump down the driveway. I listen uncomprehendingly to the conversation between the paramedics as they begin assessing Alice. I don’t know what any of the numbers and phrases mean, but when the siren kicks in and I see our speed as we drive towards the hospital I know that this is as serious as I’m afraid of.

“Alice? Hi sweetie, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes? I’d really like it if you could talk to me and tell me how you feel. Alice? I know you must feel pretty sick…we’re going to get a doctor to help you feel better, sweetheart.” The paramedic riding in the back with Alice keeps talking to her even though Alice makes no response. “Alice…can you hear me? Can you squeeze my hand? Alice?...ah, sweetie, no...”

“Alice!” The word bursts out of me as Alice’s little body stiffens up and seizes, her limbs jerking spasmodically. “Fuck! Is she…?”

“Don’t panic Emmett,” the paramedic says to me in the same steady, cheerful tones that she has been using to talk to Alice. “It’s a seizure, but she’s still breathing. We’ll be at the hospital in just a couple more minutes and there’s a paediatrician on stand by to treat her, so she’ll be in the best hands.”

I can’t stop myself panicking, my stomach so tightly twisted with fear that I can hardly breathe. But there’s nothing I can do except watch helplessly as Alice jerks stiffly again before subsiding back into limp unresponsiveness. The siren sounds loud in my ears as we race towards the hospital.

The ambulance has barely come to stop at the swinging ER doors before the back is flung open and arms reach in, deftly pulling Alice’s stretcher free as the EMT releases it. A doctor in patterned scrubs appears, yanking on some latex gloves and leaning closer to Alice.

“Tell me what we’ve got.”

The paramedic in the back with Alice scoots out after the stretcher, already talking rapidly, and the two of them push her away almost at a run. I go to follow them, but am stopped by the doors that have already swung shut and locked behind them as they sped Alice away.

“Hey!” I bang my fist hard against the door, feeling hot tears of fear and frustration stinging my eyes. “Hey!”

“You’ll need to wait in the waiting area.” The other paramedic comes up behind me and points towards another door. “It’s just over there.”

“But I want to stay with Alice! She’ll be so scared…please,” I choke out.

“You need to give the doctor space to work,” the EMT says, sounding a little kinder than she has before. “Talk to the person at triage and let them know that you’re there with Alice, and someone will come out and talk to you when they can.”

Frustrated and angry, I trail into the waiting area and join the short queue in front of the desk. When it’s my turn I tell them I’m there for my sister Alice, who has just been brought in by ambulance, and the nurse hands me a clipboard and pen. “Fill out what details you can,” she says, already turning away from me to the person behind me with a bloodstained towel wrapped around his hand.

In my slow and messy handwriting I fill in what information I know. Alice’s name, birthday, mom’s name and our address are easy, and I skip all the financial stuff. She’s not allergic to anything, and she doesn’t have a history of any medical problems. Once the forms are returned to the nurse, I sit down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, Alice’s rabbit gripped so tightly in my hands that my fingers go white, and stare blankly at the tv.

_You have to be okay, Monkey._

I wait for a long time, the changing tv programs marking the passage of time in the windowless room. People come and go; nurses and doctors disappearing behind the swinging doors, patients coming in with obvious and not so obvious injuries and illnesses, and leaving with bandages and crutches, or pharmacy bags carried in hand. On the hour I go back to the desk, join the queue and ask again if I can see Alice, or if they can at least tell me something about how she is. But no one will and I stare at the tv until my eyes blur and gnaw on my knuckles until I taste blood, and shy away from my growing conviction that Alice must have died.


	3. Someone to Help

“Emmett McCarty?”

At the sound of my name I jump, sitting up straight when I see a uniformed police officer standing in front of me. Beside him is a woman wearing regular clothes and an official looking id tag on a lanyard around her neck.

“Yeah?” I say warily.

“I’m Mara.” The woman introduces herself. “I’m a social worker from Children’s Services, and this is Ian from the police department. We’re here about Alice, and about what’s been going on at home.”

I feel like I’m shrinking into myself as I hunch my shoulders and slide down a little in the chair. “They won’t tell me anything about Alice.”

Mara nods at me. “Well, I’ve just spoken to her doctor, and she’s stable for the moment.”

I close my eyes. _Sweet Jesus, thank you._

“Now we need to look at what we can do for you and Alice,” Mara goes on.

My stomach falls. Not this. “We’re okay,” I say, knowing already that it’s futile. “I’ll just take her back home once the doctor says it’s all right. I can look after her.”

“You’re not going to be able to go back home for a little while.” Ian’s voice is deep, and he looks at me with pity. “Given the nature of what happened to Alice this morning we were called in, and there have been officers out to your house. You would probably know what kind of things we found there…your mom and Mark Harris have both been taken down to the station for questioning.”

My stomach tightens with anxiety until the pain is almost excruciating. I can’t say anything, and after a beat of silence the cop puts a fatherly hand on my shoulder.

“We know that you aren’t involved in anything illegal Emmett. Your mom has been pretty open with us, and you’re not in any trouble.”

“We need to find you somewhere to stay though,” Mara adds. “The house isn’t a safe place for Alice or for you, and the police haven’t decided what’s going to happen with your mom in any case. Do you have any relatives, or friends you can stay with for a few days, until we know what’s going on?”

I shake my head. There aren’t any relatives. I’ve never had a dad in the picture at all, and my grandma, who raised me alongside my mom since I was a baby, died before Alice was even born. I have some friends at school, but no one I’m all that close to. No one that I want to call and tell them what’s happening, and ask if I can stay with them.

“I’m not going anywhere right now. I have to be here for Alice,” I try to breathe normally and relax so that my stomach will stop hurting. “She’ll want me to be with her.”

Mara nods slowly. “Well, the doctor has said she’ll be here at least overnight. Do you have a cell phone?”

I shake my head. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay.” Mara pulls out a business card and hands it over to me. “Here are my numbers; give me a call if you’re going leave the hospital. I’ll go back to the office and see what I can find for you in terms of short-term accommodation. We’ve found Alice’s dad, Christian Brandon, and we’re waiting to hear back from him…she’ll probably be able to go and stay with him once she’s released.”

I don’t hear the rest. I barely register the two of them patting me on the shoulders and reminding me to call them with any questions before they leave. I fold my arms across my aching stomach and bend over, closing my eyes and trying to think over the hammering of my heart.

Christian Brandon. Alice’s dad. It’s been five years since I’ve seen him, but just the sound of his name throws me right back to being that seven or eight or eleven year old kid who was fucking terrified of him. I have never been as grateful for anything as I was for the fact that he finally left us. And now they want him to come back, and maybe even take Alice away with him, and this just can’t happen.

I have to stop it. There has to be something I can do, some way I can explain, someone I can tell…

Struck by a sudden thought, I dig into my jacket pockets. My key, a couple of pieces of gum, two pebbles and a feather that Alice had picked up and made me carry for her…and a crumpled piece of paper with a phone number that might just be the help that I need.

I’m lucky, and the first person I ask is willing to give me the cost of a phone call. Praying my luck will hold, I go to the payphone in the corner and dial the number scribbled down on the paper.

“Hello?”

I swallow hard. “Mrs Cullen? It’s Emmett McCarty.”

“Emmett? How are you?”

“I really hope you don’t mind that I called,” I mutter. “It’s just that you said…if there was anything…”

“Of course I don’t mind that you called. What can I do for you?” Mrs Cullen says gently.

“I’m at the hospital,” I say in a rush. “Alice is sick. She was unconscious when I woke up this morning and I had to call the ambulance for her. I’ve been here all day - but they won’t let me see her – and the police and a social worker just came and said that my mom is at the police station so we can’t go home. The thing is though, they’re trying to get hold of Alice’s dad…I think they want her to go and stay with him. But she can’t.” I struggle to take a deep breath. “He’s not…he left when she was a baby, so she doesn’t even know him, but he used to…”

My voice fades. I can’t say it. Even now, five years since I last saw him, even now that I’m sixteen years old and six and a half feet tall, I can’t say it.

_You keep your mouth shut you little shit, you hear? If I hear you’ve been whining to anyone, there’ll be worse for you then, understand?_

“All right Emmett, I’m glad you called. I might be able to help you with some of this at least.” Mrs Cullen sounds sure and confident, and the pain in my stomach eases fractionally. “Where in the hospital are you?”

“I’m still in the ER waiting area. I keep asking them about Alice, but they just keep telling me they’ll let me know.”

“Sit tight for now. I can be there in about fifteen minutes, and then we’ll see what we can do.”

Mrs Cullen rings off. I slide down the wall until my butt hits the floor, and let my head sag forward until my forehead hits my knees. Everything is wrong…but for the first time all day, I feel like maybe I’m not on my own.

Mrs Cullen arrives within the promised fifteen minutes, and stuns me by wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug as she says hello. I stand awkwardly, not knowing what to do, as she pats my back and then sits down in one of the plastic chairs.

“Why don’t you start by telling me exactly what happened?” she asks.

I bite my knuckles, and with an effort tell her the bare truth. “Alice was unconscious when I found her this morning. Momma had a party last night, and I think some of them left shit on the coffee table and Alice might have eaten something bad. That’s a guess, but I can’t think of any other reason why she would suddenly be so sick. I couldn’t wake her up, and Momma wasn’t…couldn’t…help, so I called the ambulance and they brought her here. That was hours ago, and I haven’t been able to see her, and they won’t tell me anything about how she is. Then a social worker and a cop showed up, because I guess they went out to the house and saw all the crap there. I mean, Momma takes a lot of drugs sometimes, and Mark cooks meth and there are guns…so the cop told me they’re both at the police station, and the social worker said that Alice and I can’t go home. She asked if I had any friends to stay with, and then said that she was looking for Alice’s dad so she could stay with him. But she can’t do that,” I finish, desperate for Mrs Cullen to see how serious this is and come up with a plan.

“Let’s take it one thing at a time,” Mrs Cullen says. “It’s ridiculous that no one has told you what’s going on, so I’ll go and see what I can do about that. My husband is actually the paediatrician on duty here today, so hopefully we can get him down here to talk to you.”

I didn’t know her husband was a doctor. And I guess it’s just a case of who you know, because ten minutes after Mrs Cullen speaks to the nurses on the desk a doctor wearing blue scrub pants and a top printed with elephants, with a stethoscope around his neck, comes through the swinging doors and heads straight over to us. It’s the same doctor that yanked Alice out of the ambulance. He kisses Mrs Cullen quickly and then holds out a hand to me.

“Hi Emmett, I’m Carlisle Cullen. I’m Alice’s treating doctor.”

I shake his hand. “Hi.”

“I have to apologise for the wait you’ve had,” he says. “It took a long time to stabilise Alice, and because of the situation with the police and child services we weren’t sure who we were able to release information to. Even so, you should have been told when she was stable. I’m sorry about that.”

I don’t care about the wait now. All that matters is that Alice is okay. “She’s stable? What does that mean? Can I go see her?”

“I can take you up there soon. She’s in the paediatric ICU at the moment, so we can monitor her carefully.” Dr Cullen pauses for a minute. “She was a very sick little girl when she came in.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have slept in…I should have been there to watch her.” I bite my knuckles hard.

Mrs Cullen shakes her head. “It wasn’t your fault Emmett.”

“You really shouldn’t blame yourself,” Dr Cullen adds quietly. “Alice was lucky that you found her and called the ambulance right away; that probably saved her life. Now, we don’t know exactly what Alice took, although we’re running tests to find out, but we do know that it led to an irregular heartbeat, high blood pressure, and some seizure activity. This has caused Alice to have some bleeding in her brain.”

I’m twisting the ears of Alice’s rabbits so tightly around my fingers that my fingertips are turning dark red. “That’s…that’s really bad…but, I mean…she’s okay, right? She’s going to be okay?”

Mrs Cullen puts her arms across my shoulders and squeezes, and for just a moment I lean back against her.

_I want my Momma._

“Right now, Alice is stable. That means we’ve got her blood pressure, heart rate and temperature all under control, and she’s resting comfortably. We were able to do a scan, and the bleed on her brain is only small. These are all good signs,” Dr Cullen says. “But it’s a serious situation. I’m going to get a neurologist to review the MRI and see what they can tell us, and in the meantime we just need to wait until all the drugs clear her system and she wakes up before we’ll know any more. Do you understand all that?”

There are a million questions racing through my head, but I’m too afraid of the answers to ask them. All I do is nod dumbly.

“Okay, Emmett?” Mrs Cullen says. “Alice is being taken care of, and we can take you up to see her soon. The next thing I think we should look at is where the two of you are going to stay until things can be worked out with your mother. You said child services is looking for Alice’s father?”

“She can’t go to him,” I say in a low voice. “She can’t. She doesn’t even know him, and…and he…” My stomach is cramping again, and I try to take a deep breath. “She won’t be safe with him.”

“Can you tell us why not?” Mrs Cullen asks softly.

I don’t want to tell them. For years I haven’t thought about it. I just pretend like those five hellish years that I had a stepfather didn’t really happen, and I never talk about it. But the idea of Alice anywhere near him makes me feel sick, and so I tuck my hands in between my knees so I can’t bite on them and mutter, “He used to hit me. A lot. And he hit my mom, sometimes…”

Dr and Mrs Cullen exchange a look. “How old were you then?” she asks.

“I was seven when Momma married him. And I was eleven when he left, right after Alice was born.”

“Was the abuse ever reported?” Dr Cullen wants to know. “Did anyone ever try and intervene?”

I shake my head, remembering with painful clarity the feeling of betrayal when there had been no one willing to stand up for me. “No. My grandma died right before that, and she was the only one who ever really cared. And I mean, I was just a kid; I was always bruised up from climbing trees and crashing my bike and all that anyway…so everyone believed them when they said that’s what it was.”

Dr Cullen nods. “Did anything he did ever cause you to receive medical treatment?”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Momma brought me to the hospital a couple of times. One time after he kicked me and I was peeing blood, I remember that one. And another time he threw me into the bed frame and I needed stitches in my head.” I run a hand through my hair, feeling the lumpy, crooked scar that’s hidden by my curls. “There were some other times, but I was a little kid…I don’t really remember all that well.”

“We’ll definitely need to talk to the social worker again. I really don’t think Alice should be released to her father’s custody without some investigation.” Dr Cullen taps his fingers on his thigh and says thoughtfully, “If we had some evidence of your abuse, it would make things simpler with Children’s Services…there might be something on file here, if your mother had you treated in this ER. Do I have your permission to look up your medical records, Emmett?”

“I guess.” I stare down at my hands, still nervously twisting Alice’s rabbit. I hate remembering those years.

“I’ll do that now,” Dr Cullen says, rising to his feet. “I know Mara too, so as long as you’re happy for me to speak to her on your behalf, I’ll put a call into her at Children’s Services right away. Maybe you’d like to go up to the paediatric ICU and sit with Alice a little? We’re not sure when she’ll be awake and talking, but I know you want to be with her.”

“I can give her the bunny…she doesn’t go to sleep without it…” I look up at the doctor. “She can have it with her, can’t she?”

He smiles. “She sure can. I’ll bet she’ll be happy to see him when she wakes up. Esme, do you want to show Emmett the way to the ICU?”

Mrs Cullen jumps up and kisses his cheek. “Thank you my darling. I’ll come and find you after Emmett’s settled.”

Dr Cullen waves and strides back behind the reception desk. I follow Mrs Cullen as she walks in the opposite direction, through a different door to the main entrance and over to the elevator.

“Thank you for coming.” I shove my hands in my pockets and shuffle awkwardly, staring at my feet instead of looking up. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I didn’t have anyone…I didn’t know who to call. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” Mrs Cullen says, and she sounds so genuinely kind that I dare to glance at her. “I gave you my number in case you needed anything, and today you did. I’m glad you called. Asking for help was the right thing to do.”

The elevator opens and we step inside. Mrs Cullen touches the button for the third floor and then smiles reassuringly. “”You’re in a tough situation right now, but Carlisle and I are more than happy to help you sort everything out. It’s important that both you and Alice stay safe.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, and we ride the rest of the way in silence.

Mrs Cullen seems to know her way around, and when the elevator stops she leads me straight to the nurses’ station in the kids’ intensive care unit. The nurse points me in the direction of the first room, and tells me Alice is in the far bed.

“Please don’t try and wake her,” she adds. “She needs her rest. We’re checking on her frequently and….”

I don’t wait to hear anything else she might say. Nothing is as important as going right over to where my little sister is. Even though they’ve told me Alice is stable, there’s part of me that is never going to believe it until I see her for myself.


	4. A New Home

My first sight of Alice is a shock. Not because of all the monitors and the IV, although they are confronting, but because they have her lying so straight on her back, with her arms resting neatly on top of the tidily tucked in blanket.

Alice doesn’t sleep like that. Alice sucks her thumb and sleeps sideways in the bed with limbs everywhere, or curls up in a little ball and hides under the blankets like a mouse in a nest. She never lies flat, arranged like a little doll, her face pale and still. I want to fold her rabbit into the crook of her arm and wrap her fingers around his raggedy ear the way she always holds him, but against the sterile whiteness of the linen it looks even grubbier than usual and I hesitate. With all the monitors beeping and flashing around us and the wires attached to her, I’m too scared to even touch Alice’s hand.

Mrs Cullen leans past my shoulder. “Poor sweetheart,” she murmurs, smoothing back Alice’s hair. “Feel better soon.” Looking around, she pulls a chair out from behind some machinery and gently pushes me towards it. “This will be more comfortable for you. I’m just going to go and catch up with Carlisle and find out if he’s been able to get on to the social worker. I’ll be back in a little while to let you know what’s happening.”

Once she’s gone I lean forward and rest my head on the bed, closing my eyes. I’m lost. How did this happen? I’ve always known that my family and home life is a little bit messed up, but now Alice is lying half dead in a hospital bed and Momma is down at the police station, and I’m not allowed to go home? My home life isn’t exactly great, but it isn’t like _this_.

I feel something touch my hair, and I whip my head up to see Alice’s eyes open. I plaster a smile on my face and lean closer to her.

“Hey, you’re awake…you scared the shit out of me, Monkey.”

Alice’s glazed eyes struggle to focus. “Em,” she says at last, her voice slurred. “Mommy…”

The nurse must have seen Alice is awake, because she comes over right away. “Hello Alice, I’m Katie and I’m going to be looking after you! How are you feeling now?”

“Milk, Emmett?” Alice says haltingly.

I shift the chair so I’m sitting close enough to take her hands. Even with the bandages securing her IV, her hands are still small enough that they disappear into mine. “You want some milk?”

“Tired,” she mumbles. “Mommy take me to school.”

I look up at the nurse, my throat tight. “Why’s she talking about school…is she okay?”

“She’s still affected by the drugs in her system,” the nurse says gently. “And any bleeding on her brain might cause some cognitive impairment…it’s good that she’s awake and talking though. What about it Alice, would you like some juice?”

Alice drinks some of the juice box, and then holds out her arms to me. A little awkwardly because of all the medical equipment, I hug her and tickle her neck. “You get better now, you hear?” I say in a mock threatening tone, and I’m rewarded with a half smile. “I love you Monkey,” I say more gently, and she holds my hand as her eyes close and she slips back into sleep.

I rest my cheek against the bed so that I can see her, holding my arm awkwardly so that Alice can keep a hold of my hand, even while she sleeps. The relief of seeing her alive and conscious is huge, even though her confusion has left a gnawing anxiety in its wake. _But she’ll be okay_ , I tell myself firmly. _She has to be._

I don’t mean to fall asleep. But the room is warm, I’m exhausted from the stress of the day, and the beeping from the medical equipment around me is hypnotic in its regularity, so it’s not really surprising that I doze off.

I’m woken by a hand on my shoulder, and I sit up abruptly, rubbing a hand quickly across my eyes. Dr Cullen is reading Alice’s chart, and Mrs Cullen and the social worker, Mara, are both standing on the other side of the bed. In between us Alice is still asleep, but my heart lifts a little when I see that she has her thumb in her mouth.

“Is she okay?” I ask Dr Cullen.

He hooks her chart back over the end of her bed. “Doing as well as we could hope for at this point,” he says. “It’s very encouraging that she woke up and recognised you, and she’s sleeping comfortably now. We should know a lot more in another twenty four hours.”

“That’s great to hear,” Mara says. “So Emmett, if you could just come to the family waiting room and we’ll all have a chat?”

There’s a small room off the ICU, with some sofas and a sink, fridge, water cooler and coffee machine. I sit in an armchair, Mara sits across from me and the Cullens take the sofa in between us.

“I think we’ve got a plan now, Emmett,” Mara says. “Alice has to stay in hospital for a couple of days, and the Cullens have offered to have you stay with them. They’ve taken in other emergency foster placements, so they know the drill.”

I frown. “Why can’t I just go home? I’m sixteen, it’s not like I need a babysitter.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible right now,” Mara answers. “There are still law enforcement investigating at home, and since you’re a minor with your mom in police custody you come under the department’s authority. We have to find you a suitable place to stay.”

I run a hand through my hair and shrug. This is all happening so fast, and I feel like everything is helplessly out of my control. “I guess.” I hesitate for a moment. “What’s happening with my mom? Can I at least talk to her?”

Mara shakes her head. “I’m afraid not right now, Emmett. I don’t know all the details, but as far as I know she’s going to be charged with child endangerment and drug offences and so it will be a little while until she can contact you. I’ll let you know as soon as I know more.”

I nod silently, and bite my knuckles. It’s an embarrassing nervous habit, and I’ve spent so much time chewing on my fist today that my knuckles feel bruised and raw. “What about Alice? You said before that you were trying to get in touch with…with her dad.” My voice is very quiet.

Mara and the Cullens exchange a look. “Dr Cullen told me what you told them,” Mara says gently.

“I looked up your medical records,” Dr Cullen says. “The incidents you mentioned were documented, as well as a couple of other things. I don’t know how it was never flagged for investigation…I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

I shrug again. “It was a long time ago. I wouldn’t have even said anything about it, but I don’t want him to have the chance to hurt Alice.”

“We’re still waiting to hear from him but, given this new information, Alice won’t be given into his custody without an investigation.” Mara looks at her papers. “Any other questions Emmett?”

“Can’t I just stay here with Alice? What if she wakes up and she’s all alone?” I sound pathetic, and my ears burn with embarrassment.

“The nurses will keep a close eye on her overnight,” Dr Cullen says. “She’s fairly sedated too, and it’s likely that she’ll sleep until morning. If she wakes up they’ll be able to take care of her. I think it’s better for you to go home with Esme now, have a good dinner and a good night’s sleep, and I’ll bring you back to the hospital in the morning. By then Alice should be awake, and you can be with her while we do some tests.”

As if in response to his comment about food, my stomach growls audibly. I haven’t eaten all day and I’m starving; as reluctant as I am to leave Alice, the idea of dinner sounds really good.

I’m not sure I have any choice about leaving her anyway. Mara says goodbye and disappears into the elevator, and the Cullens kind of hustle me back to Alice’s bed so that I can awkwardly touch her hair and whisper goodbye.

“I’ll take you home with me now,” Mrs Cullen says. “Carlisle still has a couple of things to finish up, and then he’ll be home for dinner.”

“Thank you for doing this,” I mutter. I know I probably sound ungrateful, but everything has been so crazy and intense all day that I can hardly even think.

“Happy to help,” Dr Cullen says cheerfully. He hugs Mrs Cullen and gives me a smile. “I’ll see you both at dinner.”

Mrs Cullen and I travel down to the basement parking lot without saying much. I wonder what kind of car she has, and I’m not exactly surprised when the locks click and the lights flash on a new looking Mercedes.

“Are you doing okay?” Mrs Cullen asks as she pays for parking.

“Yeah.” I try to smile. “Just…you know, thinking about Alice.”

 _And Momma. Momma, who let this happen…_ I feel my teeth cutting in to my knuckles and I put my hands down in my lap.

“She’s in good hands,” Mrs Cullen says. “The nurses at the hospital are so good with the little ones, if she does happen to wake up they’ll make sure she’s not frightened.”

I nod without saying anything, and lean back in the seat. The car is clean and the drive is smooth as we zip through the streets away from the hospital and into a residential neighbourhood nearby. It’s an area I don’t really know, with big houses in landscaped lots and shiny SUVs in the driveways.

“My son, Edward, is around your age. He’s a sophomore at Camden.”

“I go to the high school.”

“Well, you’ll meet him when we get home. What do you think of spaghetti? For dinner, I mean. It’s getting late, but we always have what I need to make that in the cupboard.”

“I like spaghetti,” I say, adding with a self-deprecating grin, “But I’m not all that picky…I like most anything.” With the school cafeteria being one of my main sources of food, I learned a long time ago that it wasn’t a good idea to be fussy.

“That’s easy then.” Mrs Cullen turns into a neatly paved driveway, driving through the garage door that opened automatically. “This is home.”

Stepping into the house from the garage is like stepping into another world. We’re in a kitchen that looks like something you’d see on the Food Network. It’s huge, with shiny steel appliances and gleaming counter tops, everything put away and arranged just so. There’s even a basket of fruit that’s so bursting with rosy colours and healthiness that it looks almost fake.

I am immediately conscious of the mud on the hems of my unwashed jeans, and my beat up sneakers on the polished floor. I don’t belong here.

At first I think the music, some complicated classical thing, is playing on a stereo and that their sound system is great. But then Mrs Cullen calls out and the music stops, and through the far double doors I see a boy rising from where he’s been sitting behind a piano, and I realise that the music is live.

“This is Edward,” Mrs Cullen says. “Edward, this is Emmett. His sister is one of your father’s patients and he’s going to be staying here tonight.”

Edward’s shorter than I am, and lean, with dark reddish hair that looks like someone’s hacked it off with a blunt pocket knife and then sent him out into a tornado. He raises his eyebrows as he looks at Mrs Cullen, but then he shrugs and offers me a half wave. “Hey.”

“How was your music lesson?” Mrs Cullen asks, already beginning to pull things out of the refrigerator and pantry. Tomatoes, peppers, onions, and a couple of other things I don’t even recognise. I guess we’re not going with a jar of Ragu here.

Edward cracks his fingers. “I’m still working on the Rachmaninoff, so it was difficult. Will Dad be home soon?”

“Not too long. Perhaps you could show Emmett the bathroom, so he could wash up?”

Once I’m done in the bathroom I go back to the kitchen and stand awkwardly by the counter. Mrs Cullen is chopping ingredients and stirring them in a frypan. Edward is laying the table, so I think I should offer to help too, but I don’t know anything about cooking like this. I don’t know anything about laying a table like this either, actually.

“Would you like something to drink?” Mrs Cullen offers. “Water? Milk? Juice? They’re in the refrigerator, and glasses are in the cabinet next to it.”

Milk sounds good, but when I open the fridge to look for it I’m so caught up by the sight of so much food that for a moment I just stare. I know there must be people who live like this, who buy the giant refrigerator and freezer sets I see advertised on tv and fill them up with fresh, expensive foods, but I haven’t ever seen it for real.

“Is there something you want?” Mrs Cullen asks. “Dinner won’t be too long, but if you can’t wait you can help yourself to something in the meantime.”

Embarrassed I grab the milk and slam the door. “No thanks Mrs Cullen, I’ll just have some milk.”

“Please call me Esme,” she says, and smiles at me in a way that makes me not mind so much that she saw me drooling over all their food.

The milk is fresh milk, and way better than the powdered stuff. I sit at the table and drink, and when I’m halfway through my second glass I hear the garage door and then Dr Cullen appears.

“Edward, Emmett, hello,” he greets us, and then crosses over to Esme and hugs her. “Hello, Sweetness. Dinner smells great.”

“It will only be a few more minutes,” Esme says, kissing him.

I feel like I’ve stumbled into a play, or some kind of family hour television show. How can this be genuine? Do people really behave like this?

Dr Cullen disappears for ten minutes, and when he comes back his hair is damp and he’s wearing jeans and a tshirt instead of the elephant scrubs. He pours wine while Esme serves up bowls of steaming, fragrant pasta.

I’ve never had pasta sauce like this before, and it’s so good that I just put my head down and eat. I’m scraping my bowl before anyone else is even half done.

“I’ll get you some more,” Esme says, and then there’s a second bowl that’s just as good as the first. By the time I’m done with that one my belly is hard and full, but I feel good.

“Thanks Mrs Cullen,” I say.

“Esme,” she reminds me. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“And please call me Carlisle,” Dr Cullen adds. “I’d much prefer that …excuse me.” His phone is beeping, and he picks it up and heads off towards the piano.

Esme starts clearing the table, and I get up and awkwardly try to help.

“Good news Emmett,” Carlisle says, coming back toward the table a minute later. “That was Louise, who is Alice’s night nurse in the ICU. I asked her to call me if anything changed, and she just wanted to let me know that Alice woke up and ate some applesauce, and has gone back to sleep. She’s not out of the woods yet, but so far she’s doing really well.” He gives me a smile.

I give him a little grin in return, and run a hand through my hair, trying to calm myself down. I’m not used to all this drama, and the day has left me exhausted and confused. Alice nearly dying, Momma being arrested, me opening our life up to scrutiny and judgement, and now suddenly being here in this absolutely unfamiliar world of wealth and order…it’s all too much. I mumble an excuse and hurriedly lock myself in the bathroom, where I sit on the closed toilet seat with my head in my hands and wish that none of it had ever happened.


	5. In Limbo

I can’t sleep. The queen bed in the Cullen’s spare room is too flat and hard, the pillows too full, and the linen smells too much like the laundry. Without a tv the room is too dark and too quiet, and there’s nothing to distract me from the crazy thoughts that are going endlessly round in my head.

There’s no food in the room, and although I’m not even hungry my belly tightens with nerves every time I think about this.

There’s no Alice slurping on her fingers as she sleeps in her pink plastic princess bed, close enough to touch if I reach out.

Switching on the bedside lamp I sit up, wearily rumpling my hair. I’m wearing a set of Dr Cullen’s scrubs, these ones printed with fish, which Mrs Cullen gave me to dress in for bed while she put my own clothes through the wash. They don’t fit that well, and I tug at them irritably and flex my shoulders.

I wish Alice were here. The thought of her alone in the dark makes my stomach hurt.

I think about Momma too, and wonder where she is and what she’s doing now. At least I can picture Alice in her hospital bed; I don’t know what jail is like at all. I think of concrete walls and bars and jangling rings of keys, and shudder. I hope it’s not like that.

After a moment’s hesitation I slide out of bed and, as quietly as possible, walk through the shadowy, moonlit house to the kitchen. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I open the fridge and stare, taking in the neat rows of condiments, leftovers in plastic containers, and the crisper drawer full of vegetables. The pantry is a walk-in and I examine everything on the crowded shelves. They must cook a lot. There’s no Ramen in sight.

I find a container full of little packets of a kind of trail mix, as well as some weird looking granola bars. There are enough in there that I don’t think anyone will notice if some go missing, so I drop a couple of them into the pocket of the scrubs. Just knowing that I have food if I want it makes me feel better.

Eventually I’ve seen everything there is to see in the pantry. I’m scared I’ll wake someone by snooping around in the dark, but I’m not ready to go to sleep yet. In the end I go into the living room and hunt around until I find the remote control for the tv, and then settle down on the sofa.

Rachel Ray is halfway through a recipe for buffalo chicken jalapeno poppers when I hear someone approach, and I’m only a little bit surprised that it’s Dr Cullen who comes into the room. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and is carrying a glass of water, and he gives me a smile as he takes a seat on the other end of the sofa.

“What are you watching?”

“Food network.”

“Mmm.” Dr Cullen drinks some water and watches the tv for a few moments. “That recipe looks really good…do you cook?”

I shake my head. “Only with a microwave.”

“I like cooking,” Dr Cullen says reflectively. “I think if I hadn’t become a doctor I might have liked to be a chef.” He finishes his water and yawns. “Are you up for any reason in particular? Is there anything I can get you?”

“I’m okay,” I shrug, “There’s just…a lot on my mind I guess.”

“If it would make you feel better I can give the hospital a call and check on Alice for you?” he offers.

For probably the first time I look him full in the face. “Really? You can do that?”

“Sure. Just give me a second to get my phone.”

Dr Cullen disappears, and when he comes back he’s already talking quietly into the phone. I strain my ears to listen, but I don’t get much until he disconnects and smiles at me. “She’s doing well. Sleeping now, but all her obs are normal.”

I exhale. “Thanks. It’s just…she’s…so little.” It isn’t exactly what I want to say but it’s the best I can do, and Dr Cullen nods thoughtfully.

“You did all the right things for her today, Emmett. Alice is lucky to have you.”

“I thought she was going to die,” I say. I’m surprised at myself for confiding in him, but the flickering light of the tv is relaxing and I’m so tired that my usual defences are well and truly down.

“She could have,” Dr Cullen says matter-of-factly. “Her whole system was under incredible strain, and a brain bleed can be absolutely catastrophic.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to scare you Emmett, but we came very close to losing her today.”

“She’s okay now though, right?”

“She’s doing very well,” Dr Cullen says a little cautiously. “The bleeding in her brain was very minor, as these things go, but it may have caused damage and she’s still at risk of a repeat occurrence. We also don’t know what affect the seizures, and the drugs themselves, may have had on her brain or other organs. We’ll be keeping a close eye on her over the next few days.”

I don’t know whether to feel reassured or not, and I find myself biting my knuckles and trying to breathe through the anxious cramps in my stomach.

“Are _you_ okay?” Dr Cullen asks gently. “It was a pretty traumatic day for you too.”

“I’m fine.” I try and sound breezy, but I don’t think I’m fooling him. “I just wish I knew when me and Alice can go home.”

“I think you can probably count on being here until Monday at the earliest,” Dr Cullen tells me. “Alice will certainly be in hospital until then, possibly longer. I don’t know exactly what’s happening with your mom, but Mara said we should know on Monday about any charges she’ll be facing and whether she’ll be released. Once they know that, Children’s Services will decide about the best place for you and Alice. Maybe you’ll go home then, or maybe you’ll stay here for a little longer.”

“I might stay here?” I give him a quick glance. “Why are you doing this? Letting me stay, I mean.”

Dr Cullen smiles. “Why not? You need some help right now, and we can give it. We’ve fostered other kids before, and it’s been a rewarding experience. We’re not any kind of saints Emmett, but if we can help make someone else’s life a little bit easier for a while then we want to do that.”

I don’t say anything, staring at the tv rather than looking at him. Carlisle is right about the recipe…it _does_ look good. He watches with me until they’re tasting it, and then swallows the last of his water and stands up.

“I’m heading back to bed,” he tells me. “You should probably try and get a bit of sleep too; it’ll be a pretty early start at the hospital tomorrow.”

I wait until after he’s gone before I switch off the tv and walk back to the room I’m sleeping in. I’m more relaxed knowing that Alice is okay and I’ve been sitting up watching tv for long enough that I do feel genuinely more tired, but it’s the stolen snacks making a lump in the pillow beneath my head that really make me feel secure enough to drift off to sleep.

_____________________________________________________

“Emmett? Are you awake? I’m just putting your clean clothes in the bathroom, so you can shower now if you like.”

The knocking at the door wakes me, and I sit up and yawn, running a hand through my hair and feeling it pull at the tangles. It’s Esme outside, and I listen to her footsteps fading away before I jump out of bed and head to the bathroom.

My clothes are folded neatly and sitting on the bathroom counter, a fluffy towel underneath them. I drop the scrubs into a hamper and get into the shower, nearly falling over at the water pressure that feels like a therapeutic massage as it pounds against my skin. There’s shampoo and conditioner and shower gel and I use some of everything, although as I get out and add deodorant I begin to wonder if maybe the combined smells are a bit much. As I dress in the freshly washed clothes I don’t know when I last felt this clean. There’s even a pair of socks with my clothes, which I wasn’t wearing yesterday, but I put them on anyway and think how grungy my sneakers will look in comparison.

But when I go back to the bedroom I forget all about the state of my shoes, because someone has already been in and made the bed and the stolen snacks I left hidden under the pillow are now sitting on the bedside table for all to see. Heat rushes to my face and I bite my knuckles hard.

_God, how embarrassing._

I can’t believe that someone has discovered my freaky little habit. And probably noticed that I stole the food from their pantry. _Goddammit._

“Emmett, I’ve got breakfast for you.” Esme peeks her head around the door for a moment. “Just come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

She doesn’t say anything about the snacks, and so I don’t know if she was the one who found them or not. In the end I shove them in my pockets…if it was her who found them she didn’t say anything, and if it wasn’t her then I don’t want her to know.

The kitchen smells like heaven. Esme is piling plates with bacon and eggs and tomatoes, and Carlisle is buttering toast. I breathe deeply in appreciation, and Esme sees me and laughs.

“Sit down,” she invites, handing me a plate.

“Thanks,” I say, my first forkful already on the way to my mouth. It smells so good! My grandma used to cook us breakfast, bacon and pancakes and waffles, but Momma has never been a morning person. I push those thoughts away and nod my thanks to Carlisle as he adds toast to my plate. I’m too busy chewing to talk.

Esme and Carlisle eat too, and I’m kind of surprised when Edward comes out and helps himself to what’s left on the stove. It’s really early- what kind of teenager voluntarily wakes up at this time on a Sunday morning?

“Any plans for today?” Esme asks him.

“I suppose I’ll keep trying to conquer the Rachmaninoff,” Edward says with a wry grin. “And homework, of course. Will you be home?”

“Well, I’m going to do some grocery shopping this morning, and I’ll stop by the hospital later on to check on Emmett and Alice.” Esme smiles at me. “I’ll call the social worker as well, and see what’s happening. I thought I might bring you and Alice some lunch…is there anything in particular Alice likes?”

“Um…she likes McDonalds Happy Meals,” I say.

Esme halfway grimaces, but nods anyway. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Carlisle joins in the conversation too. “I’m at the hospital until this afternoon. The usual…I’ve got rounds and time in the ER, and lots of paperwork to catch up on…”

I just keep my head down and eat. All this chat around the breakfast table, politely passing the ketchup and extra toast…it’s like a sitcom. It wouldn’t surprise me if a uniformed maid came trotting in or a laugh track punctuated the conversation.

Carlisle drives us to the hospital, and takes me straight up to the unit that Alice is in. He stops at the nurses’ station but I can’t wait, and walk quickly towards Alice’s bed.

She’s awake, her thumb in her mouth and her other hand clutching her bunny’s ear. When she sees me she smiles, but it’s a pretty low watt version of her usual beaming grin.

“Hi Monkey,” I say, pulling over a chair and sitting beside her bed. “What’s going on?”

Alice points at the tv mounted on the ceiling above her bed. “It’s cartoons.”

“Oh, Scooby Doo, that’s good.” I watch for a moment, and then see Carlisle approaching.

“Good morning Alice,” he says cheerfully. “Do you remember me from yesterday?”

Alice looks uncertain. “Did you come to my school?”

Carlisle smiles. “No. I’m a doctor and I was taking care of you here at the hospital. Do you remember that?”

“Mommy forgot to buy milk,” Alice mumbles, twiddling the bunny’s ears. “Can you tell Emmett?”

My stomach tightens. What is she talking about? I reach across and tap her hand. “Hey Monkey, I’m here.”

Alice looks at me vaguely for a moment, and then her eyes clear and she smiles like she’s just noticed I’m there. “Emmett!”

I glance at Carlisle, who is looking at Alice thoughtfully. “How does your head feel, Alice?” he asks.

“Hurts,” Alice says, around the thumb she’s put back in her mouth.

“Does anything else hurt? How does your tummy feel?”

“This isn’t my home,” Alice frowns. “Emmett, why are we here?”

 _What the fuck?_ “It’s the hospital. You came in the ambulance yesterday, because you were sick.” I can feel my teeth hard against my bruised knuckles.

Alice looks confused, and shrinks back against her pillows. “I’m too tired,” she mumbles, closing her eyes.

“You have a nap then,” Carlisle says, making a note in her chart. “The nurses are here if you need anything, and I’ll come and see you again later. Emmett, do you want to come outside with me for a second?”

“What’s wrong with her?” I demand as soon as we’re out of earshot, leaning against the nurses’ desk with my arms folded. “She’s not even making sense.”

Carlisle rubs his chin. “Her thought processes seem a little disjointed…this isn’t usual for her?”

I snort. “If there’s one thing that Alice does well, it’s _talk_.”

“How have you found her?” Carlisle turns to the nurse behind the counter. “Have you noticed anything?”

“She’s been very quiet this morning. Louise left a note that she was a little disoriented when she spoke with her overnight and didn’t seem able to answer questions, but wasn’t sure if it was tiredness or something else,” the nurse says.

“But just then…she forgot I was sitting right next to her, and she didn’t even know where she was,” I persist. “What does that mean?”

“Right now, I’m not sure,” Carlisle says slowly. “It could be nothing. But Alice’s brain and body went through a significant trauma yesterday, so we’ll be keeping a very close eye on her. You’re the one who knows Alice best, so you’re in the best position to notice anything that seems unusual or out of character. It would be a big help if you could let us know about anything you see.”

I notice that he hasn’t really given me any answers, but I shrug my shoulders and nod anyway. “Okay.”

“Great. Come along with me for a moment while Alice is sleeping and I’ll show you the paediatric playroom.” Carlisle walks quickly down the hall and flings open a door decorated with animal decals. “This is for all the kids on the unit. Alice can walk down here if she feels up to it, or you can take some books and toys back to her bed for her.” He reaches up into a cupboard and hands me a glittery bag with pink string handles. “All the kids who are admitted get a bag, it’s got some markers and paper and stickers and things like that in it…take this back with you for Alice when she wakes up.” He scratches his chin. “I think that’s about everything…any questions?”

I twist the bag handle around my fingers and look at the floor. “I was just wondering about…about my mom? I mean, I don’t know what’s happening to her…and I know it’s Sunday but maybe we can ask someone?”

“I know it’s tough not knowing,” Carlisle says. “I’ll give Mara a call and see what I can find out.”

“Okay.” I bite my knuckles.

“It’s going to be okay Emmett,” Carlisle says, with a pat on the shoulder that makes me jump. “I’ve got to get going, but if you need anything you can talk to Alice’s nurses and they’ll be able to help. They can call me too. And Esme is coming by at lunchtime.”

He heads off down the corridor, and I go back to Alice’s bedside. She’s asleep, and after I tug her blanket higher I sit down and pick through her showbag, pulling out the markers and drawing pad. I noticed on my walk that lots of the kids have signs with their names taped to the walls above their bed, and so I uncap the purple and begin on one for Alice, wondering what the hell is going to go wrong next.


	6. Kept Her Safe

Alice wakes up, rubbing her eyes in confusion as she takes in the hospital room, and me sitting by her bed.

“What are you doing? Why aren’t we at home? Oh no…” Alice squirms and grips the blanket in her fist. “It’s wet…oh no…”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll find you some new sheets.”

Before she can get any more upset I hurry out to the nurse at the desk, whose id tags say Haley. “Alice is awake, but she’s wet the bed,” I say. “I’ll fix her up, if I can I have some new sheets?”

“I’ll come and do it.” Haley jumps up and takes some new sheets from a stacked cupboard in the hall. “Hi Alice, how are you?” she says brightly as she goes to her bed. “Let’s get some new sheets on the bed and make you comfortable.”

After snapping on some latex gloves she strips the top coverings off the bed, and then holds out her hands to Alice. “You know what? We’ve got a nice big tub just down the hall, so how about you come and have a warm bath to clean you off?”

Alice jerks backwards. “No!”

“Are you sure you don’t want to? We might be able to find some bubbles…” Haley coaxes.

“No! No bath!” Alice scrambles across the bed and tries to crawl onto my lap. “No bath Emmett…”

Of course this is the moment that Carlisle and Esme walk in, the bed wet and Alice semi hysterical as I try to comfort her without getting pee on me.

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” Carlisle comes over quickly. “Not a good idea for her to get worked up right now.”

Hayley holds up her hands in surrender. “I just suggested a bath.”

“No, please no…” Alice whimpers.

“It’s okay, no one will make you.” I give up trying to hold her at bay and grimace as my arms wrap around her wet and shivering little body. “Come on Monkey, I’ll help you have a shower like always.”

“Of course you can have a shower instead!” Haley says. “The shower is in that bathroom right over there, and if you want Emmett to help you that’s fine too.”

“And I’ve got something special for you after your shower.” Esme holds up a shopping bag. “Would you like to see? I bought some new pyjamas for you to wear in hospital.”

Alice keeps her arms right around my neck but turns her face so that she’s no longer pressed into my tshirt and can see Esme.

Esme smiles, and opens the bag to show Alice a pair of pink pyjamas with cats on them. “Do you think you might want to wear them?”

Alice hesitates, and then nods. “But no bath,” she whispers.

I can see they don’t understand. But I know I can’t explain it to them, and I hope Alice won’t. Momma is in enough trouble as it is, and after all it was only time and she didn’t really mean to do it. I bite my knuckles and then push Alice away from me.

“Get up Monkey, you need a shower and then you can put on your new pyjamas.”

“Only you help.”

“Okay.” I look at Haley and the Cullens and shrug. “We’ll go do that then.”

Alice is happy enough to get in the shower once we’re in the bathroom. The handheld shower nozzle is a novelty for her, and there’s probably more water sprayed across the room than on to Alice as she giggles. I’m thinking that it’s a pity Esme didn’t bring me pyjamas too since my clothes are getting so wet when there’s a knock on the door.

“Here’s a towel, and some soap.” It’s Esme.

“You can come in,” I say, stepping back from the door. “If you don’t mind getting wet that is!”

“She’s not afraid of water altogether then?” Esme asks quietly.

I don’t look at her, instead focusing on Alice as I squirt some of the liquid soap into her hands. “Scrub up, Monkey.” I turn away and rinse my hands off at the sink. “No. She just…doesn’t like bathtubs.”

Alice loves the new pyjamas Esme has bought her, as well as the panties and socks, but by the time she’s dried off and dressed she’s looking pale and shaky and it reminds me of how sick she really has been. I scoop her up in my arms and carry her back to her freshly made bed, kissing the top of her head when I think no one will see.

“You made my name,” Alice says in a pleased tone of voice, pointing to the sign that someone has taped to the wall behind the bed.

“Did you do that?” Esme asked, taking a closer look. “Emmett, it’s beautiful!”

Half embarrassed, I grin. I’ve done Alice’s name in big, solid letters, with the cartoon animals she loves me to draw for her climbing over them and peeking out from behind. “I like to draw.”

“Well, you’re very talented,” Esme says, tucking Alice in. “Carlisle has just gone down to the cafeteria to get us all some lunch…”

As if heard his name, Carlisle walks into the room carrying a couple of paper sacks that he places down on Alice’s table. “Anyone hungry?”

The aroma drifting out of the paper bags has my mouth watering and my belly growling- I’m _starving_. “Oh yeah, me please,” I say without thinking, immediately embarrassed when Carlisle chuckles.

“I got you a hamburger Emmett,” he says, unpacking the food. “And Alice, I got you some nuggets and a fruit salad, and I got you both some fries and some chocolate milk. Does that sound like something you want to eat?”

“Yes,” Alice says, adding a “Please” when I nudge her.

“Dig in,” Carlisle invites, handing Esme some sandwiches. “Tuna salad for you, my love.”

The look she gives him as she takes the food is so personal that I feel like I almost shouldn’t be watching. They’re so _nice_ to each other, and it just seems so natural for them. There’s no subtext, it’s just…something else. I don’t know how to explain it, and I don’t know if I’m more curious about it or uncomfortable with it.

The food probably came from the hospital cafeteria, but it’s not bad. I eat everything Carlisle bought me and then polish off most of Alice’s too. She eats a little but she’s exhausted, and when Esme gently asks if she wants to save her fruit salad for later Alice just lays her head down on the tray table and cries.

“My head hurts,” she sobs. “And when will my mommy come?”

It’s the first time she’s even mentioned Momma, and suddenly I’m having a hard time swallowing my lunch. What am I supposed to say? But before I can think of anything, Esme picks Alice up and hugs her.

“It’s okay Alice,” she murmurs. “I’m sure Mommy will come as soon as she can. For now you just have a cuddle with me while Emmett eats his lunch.”

Alice leans against Esme, her thumb in her mouth and her eyes glassy with tears and tiredness. “Emmett likes noodles for lunch,” she whispers, and Esme smiles and brushes her hair back from her face.

“She’s due for some pain relief,” Carlisle says quietly, checking her chart. “I’ll get you some medicine that will make your head feel better Alice, okay? Then maybe you can have a nap.”

She obediently swallows the medicine he brings her, but when he suggests she take a nap, Alice just snuggles closer to Esme. “Don’t let him hurt me,” she mumbles. “Mommy…make him go away.”

She’s asleep almost immediately, and there’s a long moment of silence. Really hoping that there won’t be any questions, I finish the last of Alice’s fries and ask hesitantly, “Have you heard anything about my mom?”

Carlisle nods. “Yes, we spoke to Mara a little earlier and right now it’s likely that your mom will be released tomorrow. Mark Harris has been charged with more serious offences, and it’s unlikely he’ll be getting bail at this point.”

“Oh hey, that’s great!” I grin with relief. “So me and Alice will go home tomorrow...if she can leave the hospital?”

“She’s doing very well, and we may be able to discharge her soon,” Carlisle says cautiously. “But as for the two of you going home tomorrow, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

I stare at him in surprise. “But…why? If Momma is at home, then…”

Carlisle shakes his head. “CPS have been out to the house, and it’s just not a safe environment for Alice. Or you. The drugs and firearms have been impounded, but the house needs some attention and your mom is going to have to prove that she can stay drug free before Alice is going to be able to go home. You’re older, and if it were only you it might be different, but Esme and I are happy to have both of you and I think it will do Alice good for the two of you to stay together.”

This isn’t what I want to hear at all. “But how long? You don’t mean for long, right? Maybe just a couple of days?” I bite my knuckles hard.

Carlisle spreads his hands. “I truly don’t know. Short-term foster placements can last any time from a few days to months. There’ll be a care plan drawn up for you and Alice that details what has to happen in order for you to go home, but I’m afraid it won’t come with a definitive timeline. We have an appointment with Mara tomorrow and you’ll be able to ask her questions then.”

I run a hand through my hair. “Maybe _months_? But that’s…it’s crazy! Momma’s not that bad! And if Mark’s not there then it’ll be totally different…I mean he’s the one that got her hooked on crack and cooked up the shit in the kitchen. Without that we’ll be fine…I can handle the rest of it. It’s not like Alice is going to eat drugs again.”

“It’s not only the drugs Emmett,” Esme says gently. “And no one is questioning that your mother loves you and Alice, or saying that she’s a bad person. But she’s made some questionable decisions that have exposed you and Alice to some dangerous situations, like Alice ingesting the drugs and what your stepfather did to you. There are also some signs of abuse with Alice, and given everything else I think Mara would like to have that investigated before Alice goes back to the same environment.”

My stomach goes cold. “I took care of her,” I say with effort. “I kept her away from him, I didn’t let him…she’s _fine_.” I stand up and reach for Alice, wanting to take her back, because I always kept her safe damn it…but she’s sleeping so peacefully in Esme’s arms that I let my hand drop uselessly. “I kept her safe,” I mutter, and turn away from them and shut myself in the bathroom, just to get away from them.

_I kept her safe. I did, I know I did, I always kept her out of the way when it was dangerous, as much as I could…_

_Fuck._

_This is not the time to think about this._

I splash some water on my face and reluctantly go back to the room. Esme and Carlisle are talking quietly, but they break off and look at me in concern.

“No one is suggesting you did anything wrong,” Carlisle says directly. “It’s obvious that you and Alice have been living with some difficult circumstances, and I’m sure you did the best you could.”

“I know that you’ve always taken good care of her, and it’s obvious that she adores you.” Esme brushes Alice’s tangled hair away from her sleeping face. “You reached out for help when you needed it and you saved her life, you couldn’t do much better than that!”

I shrug and ease back into my chair. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s really nice of you to let us stay with you and all, but I think it’s kind of an overreaction.”

“You can talk about it with Mara tomorrow,” Carlisle says. “I’m hoping to get Alice in for another scan tomorrow morning too, and that will give us a little more information to work with. But for tonight, your room is booked at Hotel Cullen.” He grins at me and stands up, kissing Esme on the cheek. “I must get back to work, and if it suits Emmett I’ll bring him home with me when I’m done.”

“I want to stay with Alice,” I say.

“You really can’t spend the night here, but you don’t need to worry. The nurses are taking special care of her,” Carlisle reassures me. “She’s on high level observation and they’re all experienced with dealing with children in these kind of situations. Her bedwetting and preference not to be bathed has been noted, she’s on regular pain relief, and if she wakes up during the night they’re just going to give her a hug and keep her company until she goes back to sleep.” He rubs his chin. “If you’d rather, you can stay here through Alice’s dinner and settling her in for the night, and I’ll drive you home after that. There’s always paperwork for me to do.”

That seems a bit better, and I agree. Carlisle waves goodbye and heads off, and Esme transfers a still sleeping Alice from her arms to the bed, covering her gently with the blankets.

“You’re really all right?” she asks me softly. “There’s nothing worrying you too badly? I know this is all very hard, and if there’s anything you want to talk about I’m here.”

I run a hand through my hair and shrug. “Thanks, but I’m okay.” I arrange Alice’s markers in colour wheel order and open to a fresh page in the drawing pad so I can begin doodling.

“You’re very good at that,” Esme comments a moment later. “The sign you made for Alice is wonderful.”

“I like drawing,” I say casually. “And lettering…I’m bad at spelling, but I like making signs and stuff. How do you spell your name?”

“E…S…M…E.”

_No wonder I can’t spell…how do those letters make Ez-may?_

I write it out though, the letters light and airy with swooping curlicues. It looks good, and I should remember how to spell it now. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” Esme folds the paper and slips it into her purse, bringing out a twenty dollar bill instead. “I’m going to go now. The hospital will bring dinner for Alice but not for you, so make sure you go and buy something at the canteen. I’ll see you this evening.”

Without waiting for me to say anything, she presses the bill into my hand and then waves as she walks off the ward.


	7. Cats and Unicorns

Alice is more cheerful when she wakes up. She eats the fruit salad left over from lunch, and then talks happily with Haley when the nurse brings her some cheese and crackers. Alice tells her that’s she’s wearing new pyjamas with cats on that Esme brought her, and talks about her favourite movies, and Haley tells her about the panda slippers she has at home and then suggests that if she’s feeling better, Alice might like to go and see the playroom.

“There are some things for you to play with there, or you could pick some books or toys to bring back here and play with in your bed,” she says, giving Alice an affectionate rub on her head.

Alice hastily swallows the last of her cheese, and then slides off the bed. “You come too Emmett.”

I follow the two of them down the hallway. It feels good to stretch my legs a little, after spending most of the day slumped in a chair beside Alice’s bed.

Haley shows Alice the things in the playroom and then has to leave to check on another patient. Alice wanders around the room looking at things, stopping by the window and looking out.

“There’s a playground down there,” she tells me.

I join her, looking down at the hospital playground. There are a couple of kids swinging, and a nurse helping a little kid in pyjamas down a slide. “Maybe you could go play.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Alice says, and I notice again how pale she is behind her smile. “I don’t want to go outside now.”

There’s a huge dollhouse in the corner, with a jumble of wooden furniture in the rooms and a basket of little wooden dolls beside it. Alice sits cross-legged in front of it and begins to arrange the furniture, not looking at me as she asks, “When will Mommy come?”

I wonder if the little red plastic chairs will break if I sit on them, and decide not to risk it. Instead I sit on the floor near Alice, watching her carefully setting up the miniature world. “I don’t really know. She can’t come today.”

“Is she not feeling well? Will she come tomorrow?”

Not feeling well…my go-to excuse for everything when it comes to Momma. Drunk, high, hungover, tweaking, sick, you-two-kids-better-keep-the-hell-away-from-me-or-I’ll-knock-your-head-off…”Momma’s not feeling well” covers it all.

Although considering she’s in jail with no access to any of her favourite mood altering substances, Momma probably _isn’t_ feeling that well right about now.

“I think Momma isn’t really feeling that great,” I say slowly. I’ve always shielded Alice as much as I can and I don’t want to stress her out now, when she’s been so sick, but I don’t want to lie to her either. “I don’t think she can come tomorrow either. Momma is…in trouble.”

“Did she do something bad?”

“Sort of.” I bite my knuckles. “It’s just that some people think that she isn’t doing a real good job of looking after you. They don’t want us to live with her until she can fix some things up at home.”

Alice arranges three mismatched chairs around a tiny table. “I like it at this hospital.”

“You can’t stay here forever. Once your head is better you’ll have to go somewhere.”

“Home.”

I shake my head. “No, I just said that…not home. Maybe with Dr Carlisle and Esme. That’s where I stayed last night.”

Alice looks at me. “But Mrs Esme lives at the church.”

That makes me laugh. “No she doesn’t. She’s just there for food on some days. She has a regular house…a _nice_ house,” I amend.

“And Dr Carlisle lives there too? Is he her boyfriend?” Alice begins filling a bathroom with furniture, adding a toilet and tub and, for some reason, a little sofa.

“He’s her husband. And they have a son, Edward, who’s about the same age as me,” I tell her.

“Do they have a cat?” Alice wants to know.

“I didn’t see one.” I chew on my knuckles for a minute. “Is that okay if we stay with them for a little bit? We’ll go back to Momma as soon as we can.”

“What about Mark?” Alice twists a little doll in her hands and doesn’t look at me. “Will he come back when Mommy does?”

“I don’t know. He’s in trouble too, for making and selling drugs like the ones that made you sick. He might have to go to jail.”

“I hope he goes to jail and never comes back. He’s meaner than Mommy.” Alice slams the doll back into the basket with surprising force. “I hate him.”

_I wish I’d been able to keep you safe._

“Hopefully we don’t have to worry about him anymore.” My voice cracks, and Alice leaves the dolls to crawl over and sit beside me.

“You can draw me some animals,” she offers. “Maybe a cat who is riding a unicorn?”

It’s her way of trying to cheer me up, and I can’t help grinning at her. “A cat riding a unicorn, huh? Okay then, lets find some paper and I’ll give it a try.”

______________________________________________

“You two have been busy!”

Carlisle stops at the foot of Alice’s bed and smiles at us, waving his hand at the pages of drawings scattered across the blankets.

I’ve drawn a menagerie following Alice’s directions – _a monkey in a hat…no, not like that! A tall hat with a flower…and he’s in the jungle running away from the crocodile…yeah, with really big sharp teeth! –_ and she has coloured some. But that was earlier, and now it’s after dinner and Alice has brushed her teeth with a new toothbrush from the nurse and is droopy eyed with tiredness, sucking her thumb and watching Frozen.

Carlisle pulls over an extra chair and sits down, automatically reaching for Alice’s chart. “I’m off the clock,” he says with a shrug, “But it looks like you’re doing pretty well Alice. You’re feeling a bit better?”

“Yes,” Alice says around her thumb, but she smiles at him. “My head doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

“Well, that’s wonderful.” Carlisle clips the chart back to the end of the bed. “We might take a peek at that head tomorrow. Did you have some dinner?”

Alice wrinkles her nose. “I didn’t like it. But Emmett got me some chips.”

“Maybe we can find you something you like for tomorrow,” Carlisle says, looking up at the tv. “Ah, Frozen…and I’m just in time for Let it Go.”

“I told Alice that I was staying at your house,” I say. “But I’ll stay here til she falls asleep.”

I can tell Alice is trying to stay awake. But she’s exhausted, and a warm bed and Frozen on in the background are too much for her and she can’t hold out very long. Once she’s asleep I bundle the papers together and leave them under the markers on the table. I like the drawing of the cat riding a unicorn – it’s one of my best. “I guess you want to get home now.”

“Mmm.” Carlisle seems pretty relaxed just sitting beside Alice and watching Frozen. “You’re right though, it will be good to get home. It’s been a long day.”

Both of us are pretty quiet on the ride back to the Cullens’ place, but it doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable. It’s kind of crazy how easy it is to be around Carlisle. He’s different to any other adult I’ve had in my life, but even though I hardly know him I instinctively feel like he’s a stand up kind of guy.

Esme and Edward are in the living room with the tv on when we walk in. Edward has a laptop computer on his lap and just waves, but Esme jumps up and gives Carlisle a hug.

“Hello! Did you get yourself some dinner?” she asks.

Carlisle nods. “Yes, I went to the cafeteria. I don’t know about Emmett, but I could really do with a snack though.” He gives Esme a boyish grin, and she laughs and pushes him away.

“Go and have a shower and I’ll find something.” As he disappears she turns to me. “Snack, Emmett? Something to drink? And how’s Alice doing?”

“Yes please…milk please…and she’s okay.”

“The milk is in the fridge, you can help yourself.” Esme is digging through the freezer.

I pour a glass of milk and drink it straight down, then pour another one. Esme puts something into the oven and then goes back to the living room and, a little awkwardly, I follow and sit down.

“Hi,” Edward says.

“Hey,” I mutter.

As well as the computer on his lap, he has a new model cell phone on the sofa next to him with a pair of headphones that I know must retail for a couple of hundred dollars. Even his clothes, a pair of jeans and a basic t-shirt, somehow look expensive.

There’s also a cat on his other side. And while I might have expected them to have a fancy pedigree cat to go with their fancy house and everything else, the cat is a scruffy little black thing with only one ear and half a tail.

“That’s Catkin,” Edward says diffidently, seeing where I’m looking.

“She looks like she’s had a run in with a much bigger cat,” I say.

Esme laughs and Edward scratches the cat’s head. “A car, actually,” he tells me. “She lost an ear and most of her tail and she limps…Esme is a sucker for a sob story, so here she is.”

I know he’s only talking about the cat, but his words are like a punch in the gut. I guess he must see something on my face, because a look of horror sweeps across his face and then he’s burning as red as his hair with mortification.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbles. “I really didn’t mean anything…it was just about the cat and…I really put my foot in it here, didn’t I?”

“Don’t sweat it,” I say with a shrug. It’s pretty clear that his remorse is genuine and that he really didn’t mean to take a jab.

And to be honest…where’s the lie? Alice and I are probably just about as damaged as the cat, and Esme has taken pity on us and so here I am.

“Alice would like your cat,” I say, trying to ease the tension. “Cats are her favourite animal. After unicorns.”

Esme smiles. “How is she tonight?”

“Pretty good,” I say, fiddling with the empty glass I’m holding. “She’s still a bit…funny sometimes, but she’s feeling better.” I look at Edward out of the corner of my eye, wondering what he knows about me and my sister.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Esme says. “Hopefully she won’t have to stay in the hospital much longer.”

I can smell something good from the oven, and it seems forever until I hear Carlisle in the kitchen. Esme goes to help him and they come back with four bowls of apple pie, ice cream melting temptingly over the top.

Apple pie is one of my favourites, this pie is homemade, and I haven’t eaten anything so good in years. “This is _amazing_ ,” I say through a mouthful. “Did you make this? It’s just like my Grandma’s pies.”

Esme looks pleased. “Well, that’s a compliment I think! Grandmas are always the best cooks. Is your grandmother around now?”

“Oh, no. She died a long time ago, but I remember her cooking.”

I loved my grandma. Momma and I had lived with her off and on since I was a baby. Momma was always a bit of a flake, and Grandma had really done most of the hard work of raising me when I was a kid. She’d died right before Momma married Alice’s dad…Grandma would never have let my life turn into this disaster.

“Mara will be over in the morning Emmett, so we should be able to make some plans then,” Carlisle says. “The neuro is also scheduled to take another look at Alice tomorrow morning, and with any luck we’ll get a clearer picture of where things stand there too.”

I don’t realise I’m biting my knuckles until it hurts, and I yank my fist away from my mouth. “Alice kept asking about Momma.”

“What did you tell her?” Carlisle asks.

“I told her that Momma is kind of in trouble, and that we can’t go home for a bit.”

He nods in approval. “That sounds good for now, since everything is a bit up in the air. ”

“Was she upset?” Esme asks. “Does she understand what’s happening?”

I shrug. “She’s okay.” I don’t want to talk about Alice’s relationship with Momma, and I _really_ don’t want to talk about Mark.

“I told her I told her I stayed here last night,” I say after a moment. “She thought you lived at the church, since that’s where she knows you.”

Esme laughs heartily. “She’s not the only little one who comes to the food pantry and thinks that since I’m always there I must live there!”

Edward is being very quiet over on the sofa beside Carlisle, but I am acutely aware that he’s there and listening to all this talk. Social workers, food pantries, my Momma…everything is coming out in this situation, and even though it has to, I’ve spent so many years smoothing things over and hiding the worst of our lives that it feels wrong to have so many people knowing. More than that, in the face of Edward’s perfect life here with his perfect house and perfect parents, I feel ashamed of it.

_I know that it’s not ideal, the way our lives are…but is all this upheaval really going to make anything better?_

For the rest of the night I sit quietly, and by the time I’m heading off to bed my knuckles are red and raw from being worried at by my teeth.

Esme follows me to the bedroom. “I bought you some pyjamas and some new underwear,” she tells me, pointing to a shopping bag on the bed. “I checked the sizes when I was washing your clothes last night, I hope you don’t mind.”

I kick at the carpet. “That’s really nice of you, but…” I don’t know how to tell her that it’s uncomfortable. She’s taken me in, and she’s bought Alice new pyjamas, and now new clothes for me. It’s too much.

“Please don’t worry about it,” Esme says. “It was a small thing for me to do to help you feel more comfortable here.” She pats me on the arm. “I know this must be so difficult for you Emmett, and I just want to help. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.” She’s almost out the door when she turns back to me. “Oh, and don’t be shy…if you get hungry during the night, just help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

I don’t know what to say. I know she’s referring obliquely to the food I hid under my pillow last night- food that is still in my pockets and that I have every intention of keeping close by, but that I can’t talk about with her. She’ll never understand. But Esme just smiles, and pulls the door almost closed behind her as she leaves.

I sit down on the bed with a thud. The shopping bag tips towards me and I see what she’s bought me- a t-shirt, some pyjamas, some socks and underwear. Everything is new, everything is the right size…even the underwear is the same style as what I’m already wearing.

The little cat appears in the crack of the doorway, sniffing warily before she trots across the carpet and leaps onto the bed beside me. I rub her furry head, wishing Alice was here and feeling a long way from home.


	8. The Kind of Hard I Know

Carlisle is at the stove when I enter the kitchen the next morning, wearing an apron with ladybugs on it and cooking pancakes. “Morning Emmett,” he says cheerfully. “Ready for some pancakes?”

“Sure,” I say. “Sounds good.”

I sit at the table with Edward and Esme, who are already eating, and then Carlisle puts a generous plateful down in front of me. I pour on syrup and then tuck in. I love the food here. The pancakes are as good as everything else has been, and I think it’s a pity that Alice isn’t here to enjoy some too.

“Mara will be here this morning for our meeting, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to miss school for today Emmett,” Esme says. “I can call and explain.”

 _Oh yeah, what a tragedy._ “That’s okay. I don’t think they’ll miss me.”

“I’ve been able to swap time with another paediatrician, so I’ll be here for the meeting with Mara too,” Carlisle adds. “Once we’re through with that I can take you up to the hospital.”

“It will be good to know where you stand,” Esme says. “You and Alice need to get back to normal, or at least into a temporary routine, as soon as possible. It’s a pity that you can’t go to school today.”

I’m not exactly broken up about school, but I’m guessing that Esme takes it pretty seriously. Edward has a school planner on the breakfast table, and he and Esme drift into a discussion about some English paper he’s handing in. Carlisle finishes his pancakes and starts to clean up the kitchen, throwing the occasional remark at Esme and Edward. I help Carlisle a bit awkwardly, bringing him the dishes from the table so he can stack them in the dishwasher. At least it’s something to do until Mara gets here and I find out what the hell is going to happen to me next. It’s certainly not as though I can add to the discussion of Edward’s paper.

Mara arrives later than she had said she would and apologises as she takes a seat in the Cullen’s living room and riffles through a tote bag full of files.

“It’s been a crazy morning,” she tells us. “Emmett, how are you going? Come sit down and we’ll all talk.”

I slouch down in an armchair. My stomach is killing me, and I shake my head when Esme offers coffee and tea. I just want to know what’s going on.

“How are you Emmett? All going well here at the Cullens?” Mara asks quietly, when Esme and Carlisle are busy in the kitchen. “No problems?”

“No, it’s fine,” I say. “They’ve been good.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any problems here, but I still have to check in.” Mara searches through her bag and eventually finds a pen. “Thanks,” she says as Esme hands her a steaming cup of coffee. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

“Do you know how my mom is?” I ask directly. “Can I talk to her?”

“Maddie is still in jail, and although it’s not the nicest place she’ll be fine there. As far as we know she’ll be out this afternoon.”

“What about going home? When can Alice and I do that?” I hate the note of desperation that sneaks in to my voice.

Mara taps her pen against the files in her lap. “As a social worker my first responsibility is to work towards family reunification. I want you and Alice at home with your mom as soon as possible, okay? That’s what we’re looking for. However you need a safe environment to return to, and at the moment there are a lot of issues with home. What I’m hoping to do now is work with your mother to tackle those issues so you and Alice can go back to living with her, but with an appropriate level of care. Does all that make sense?”

I nod silently.

“We really do want to keep families together. Kinship care is usually the first option for a foster placement, where a child will go and live with a relative until the issues at home are worked out. Unfortunately for you and Alice there aren’t any relatives who can take temporary custody. We did manage to contact Alice’s father…”

The pain in my stomach feels like I’m being stabbed, and I have to force myself not to react to the mention of him.

“…but we were very concerned by what you told us about him. He also isn’t interested in taking custody, so that’s no longer an option we’re considering. When kinship care can’t be arranged, then one of our registered foster carer families will take children in on a temporary, or even permanent, placement. That’s where we are with you and Alice. The Cullens are going to act as your guardians until your mom is back on her feet.” Mara looks at me.

“How long will that take?”

Mara taps her pen a few more times. “It’s hard to say. Maddie needs to go through rehab and addiction counselling to get her drug and alcohol issues under control first, and then we need to address the neglect and make sure that she understands her responsibility to protect you and Alice from the people she brings you in contact with. She will need to prove she can stay drug-free, and probably complete one of our parenting courses.” She smiles at me sympathetically. “It’s important that you don’t see any of this as a punishment, either for your mother or for you. It’s about creating a stronger family and a safer home environment, and we’ll be able to help your mother with the skills and resources she needs to parent effectively.”

It’s stupid how much I want to defend Momma. She wouldn’t have ever won Mother of the Year, but it’s only been the last year or two that it’s got _so_ bad. Fuck Mark and his crack. Before he came along she was okay- smoked a lot of weed and drank a lot of booze, and she had a quick temper and a ready hand, but sometimes she worked and at least there was always food. I know how pointless it is to say anything though, so I chew miserably on my fist and keep my mouth shut.

“You’ll be able to see her though Emmett,” Esme says a little anxiously.

“Absolutely,” Mara says. “It’s important to maintain family relationships. What we’re going to arrange is for you and Alice to have weekly supervised visits with Maddie at our office, as well as set times for phone contact. This can be increased when we feel that it’s in everyone’s best interests. Okay?”

I nod slowly. “So we just live here and… whatever?”

“Exactly. Carlisle and Esme will make sure that you and Alice can get to school and any other activities that you usually do, as well as the visits with your mom. They’ll look after you both and make sure you have everything you need. In return you’ll need to listen to them and follow the rules of their house. If you have any problems you can talk to them, or you can also call me at any time.” Mara leans forward and hands me a card, with her name and numbers on it. “Keep that, although Carlisle and Esme also have my contact info if you lose it.”

“There’s some good news though Emmett,” Carlisle says with a friendly grin. “I just spoke to the neuro at the hospital, and he’s had a chance to check out Alice and her scans from this morning and is really pleased with her. While there are still some questions about the cognitive impact of the episode, physically she’s in pretty good shape and he’s happy to release her to go home with me.”

That news is just what I want to hear. “That’s awesome.” I hate Alice being in the hospital.

“She’s an incredibly lucky little girl,” Carlisle says. “She’ll have to keep quiet and rest for a little while, so she won’t be going back to school for another week or so but Esme will be here to watch over her.”

The idea of living here at the Cullens’ like it’s my house is hard to get my head around. “What about our things? Clothes and stuff…can I at least get that?”

“Maddie has given us the okay to go in to the house so you can get together a bag of clothes and your school things,” Mara tells us. “You won’t be allowed to go back there once your mom is there, but we can do that this morning. Esme and Carlisle can get you anything else that you or Alice need.”

I don’t want them to buy me things. The t-shirt and underwear and Alice’s pyjamas are more than enough. Already I’m feeling a heavy sense of obligation to these people.

“Perhaps we should do that now?” Esme suggests. “Emmett and I will go with Mara, while Carlisle goes to the hospital and arranges the paperwork for Alice to be discharged. By the time you’ve done that, Emmett and I should have been able to pack a bag for the two of them. We’ll have to grab a carseat too, we can’t have Alice in the car without one.”

Carlisle and Mara think this is a good plan, and I find myself being ushered out into Esme’s car and driven across town to my house. It’s all happening so fast, and no one seems all that interested in my opinion…even if I could string my thoughts together enough to voice one.

My house looks older and shabbier than ever compared to the Cullens’ place, and without Alice or Momma or Mark it feels eerily abandoned. I unlock the front door and shoulder it open, wrinkling my nose at the gust of stale, sour air that flows out. All the junk from the party is still strewn around, and as I look around I see that all the cabinets and drawers have been opened and rifled through.

“Shit…did someone come in and rob the place?”

“I think the police did a pretty thorough search,” Mara says. “Where is your room? And Alice’s? Do you have a suitcase or an overnight bag or something similar?”

I shake my head. “No, nothing like that...that’s our room.”

I point at the open door and Mara marches briskly along the hall and goes into the room, digging into her bag as she does. “I’ve got some big plastic bags then,” she calls back. “Not the most elegant solution, but it works.”

 _Trash bags_ , I think, following her into the room and taking the folded bag she hands me. Pretty appropriate I guess…most of what I own is junk. But I just shake my head and open the closet, picking through the messy jumble of stuff on the floor for things I need.

“What about Alice’s things?” Esme asks me, holding another bag and looking uncertainly around her.

“Some of her clothes are in the drawers.” I indicate the chest of drawers, most of which are open, clothes and toys stuffed in everywhere. Beside it a laundry basket sits on the floor, nearly obscured by the mountain of washing piled into it. “There’s a bunch of stuff in that heap next to it as well, and the pile on the end of her bed is the new stuff that you gave her.”

I think about going to the church food pantry, and Esme opening up the community closet for Alice. Was that only Friday? Has it really only taken three days for everything familiar to be snatched away and for me to be suddenly in this strange new place of hospitals and foster families and CPS?

I nearly jump out of my skin when Esme gently rubs my shoulder. “It’s okay Emmett,” she says softly. “I know this is hard…take your time. And don’t worry if you forget anything, we’ll be able to work something out.”

A lump rises in my throat. I’ve never been one to get all emotional and worked up, but damn if her kindness and care doesn’t make my heart ache. Because even though my life was kind of hard before this, at least it was a type of hard I knew about and was used to dealing with. This is all different. None of the usual rules apply, and everything is changing so fast it seems like I don’t know what I’m losing until it’s gone.

I give her the most cheerful smile I can manage, and begin shoving clothes into the trash bag. My other pair of jeans, a couple of t-shirts, some odd socks and underwear…I don’t have that much. Esme efficiently packs things for Alice, folding and stacking clothes and then transferring the piles to her bag.

“What about any favourite toys or books?” she asks. “Anything special that will help her feel at home?”

“She’s got her bunny at the hospital. There’s a shoebox that she keeps her favourite things in, I’ll see if I can find it.”

I drop to my knees and dig around under her bed, eventually coming up with my baseball mitt, my blue hoodie, and a battered shoebox with a sparkly hairband holding the lid on. I prise the lid up on the shoebox to show Esme. “It’s got some Barbies and those little animal toys that she likes and her Frozen dolls and some other stuff.” The shoebox is from my last pair of sneakers, and given the size of my feet it really fits a lot in it.

“Thanks Emmett.” Esme takes the box and knots the top of her trash bag. “I think I’ve got what Alice needs.”

I don’t want to keep her waiting, so I hastily throw the mitt and hoodie into the bag and then stuff in a final handful of socks and underwear that’s jumbled up on top of the chest of drawers. The last thing I pick up is my baseball bat, a long ago gift from my grandma. I don’t know if I’ve got everything I need, but I’ll have to make do. With a tiny sigh I sling my school backpack over my shoulder and try to smile at Mara and Esme. “I guess I’m done.”

“Good job,” Mara says. She writes something down in her notebook and takes a last look around. “I think that’s everything we have to do here. Emmett, I’ll let you go with Esme now but remember that you can call me if you need me, and I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Okay.”

As I’m leaving the room I take one last look behind me and hesitate. Esme has moved a bunch of clothes from the top of the dresser and now I can see the picture that’s taped to the wall behind it. It’s a photo taken years ago, of me and Momma and my grandma. We all look so happy… I quickly go back into the room and take the picture down, sliding it down in between papers in my backpack. Even thinking about Momma right now makes my stomach seize up, but I don’t want to leave the picture behind.

I trudge outside and dump the plastic bag in the trunk of Esme’s car. She and Mara confer quietly on the porch for a few moments before Mara waves and drives away and Esme comes and joins me in the car.

“How are you doing?” she asks sympathetically.

I shrug and stare out the window, watching the house grow smaller as we bump down the driveway. “Okay.”

“Hopefully the department will help your mother manage things and you and Alice will be able to go back home soon.”

“That would be good…I mean, I know it’s not great and all…” Half embarrassed, I risk a quick glance at Esme. “It’s not like _your_ house.”

“But it’s home to you, and you want to go back.”

She understands. The tension in my belly eases a little and I draw in a deep breath. _It’s home to you._ Despite everything, that’s my home and my momma, and as complicated as it sometimes is all I know is that I love them.


	9. Enough

 

“Emmett, where _were_ you?” Alice exclaims when I walk into the hospital room. She pushes the remains of her lunch away from her and frowns at me. “I didn’t know!”

“We told her a couple of times that you’d be coming in as soon as you could,” Sarah, the daytime nurse tells me. “She just seems to be having a little bit of trouble remembering things today. We’ve mentioned it to the doctor, and he said to keep an eye on it.”

“It’s okay Monkey,” I say. “I’m here now.”

I let her hug me, and then I watch in surprise as she reaches out and hugs Esme too.

“Hello sweetie,” Esme says, hugging back. “How are you feeling today?”

“Okay.” Alice sits back on her bed and looks at her lunch tray. “I ate all the jello…I don’t want any more.”

Esme stopped at a diner and bought us sandwiches on the way from home to the hospital, but I can always eat and Alice has hardly touched the plate of roast meat and veggies. I leave the chair for Esme and hop up on the side of Alice’s bed and help myself.

“Did you see the doctor this morning?” Esme asks Alice.

“I saw the trolls and they made me better,” Alice answers after a moment’s thought.

I nearly choke. “Monkey, that’s the Frozen movie…this is real life. The doctors made you better.”

“Oh.” Alice looks vaguely around. “Well, I _think_ there was a doctor.”

Esme laughs. “Don’t worry Alice. Carlisle spoke to your doctor, and he said that since you’re feeling so much better you can leave the hospital today. What do you think?”

Alice rearranges her sock, lining the seam up exactly with her toes, and doesn’t answer.

“Remember what I said yesterday? We can’t go home to Momma just yet.” I watch her closely. “We’re going to stay with Mrs Esme and Dr Carlisle for a little while.”

“At your house?” Alice asks Esme uncertainly.

Esme nods. “As soon as the doctor says it’s okay, I’ll take you and Emmett home to my house.”

“Oh!” I interrupt, suddenly remembering. “They _do_ have a cat.”

“Her name is Catkin,” Esme says. “She’s a sweet little black cat who loves snuggling up with people.” She takes out her phone and shows Alice a photo. “There she is, sleeping in Carlisle’s sock drawer, cheeky little thing.”

The photo of the cat does it, and Alice is completely won over. “She lives in your house and I can pet her?”

“You really can. Let’s start getting your things together and getting ready to leave.”

There’s not much we need to pack up, since Alice didn’t exactly come into hospital with a lot of stuff. The old t-shirt that she was wearing when she was admitted has since disappeared, and she’s wearing the new pyjamas that Esme bought her. She has her ratty old bunny, the gift bag Carlisle gave her from the playroom with the markers, notepad, stickers, balloons, and magic wand that were in it, and the four remaining pairs of new panties in the pack of five that Esme gave her. Along with a toothbrush and a tiny tube of toothpaste from a nurse, that’s everything.

“I should have thought of shoes,” Esme says with a sigh. “Never mind, socks it will have to be.”

“I’ll carry her,” I say hastily. “No problem.”

Probably because Carlisle is a doctor at the hospital, everything is easily arranged for Alice’s discharge. Esme has to sign a couple of forms and then we’re on our way. Slowly, because Alice has to hug every single nurse goodbye on our way out, but at last the automatic doors of the hospital are closing behind us. I take a deep breath and swing Alice up in my arms.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to come back here any time soon.”

Carlisle meets us at Esme’s car, half in and half out of the backseat as he installs the carseat that he’s just gone out and bought. “I think that’s installed correctly,” he says, backing out. “Emmett, do you want to check?”

What would I know about it? In Momma’s car Alice rides in a booster seat that we got from the neighbour, or just sits in a regular seatbelt. This car seat looks like a safety pod that would work in a space shuttle.

“I did some quick research online and this seat had the highest safety ratings across several sites,” Carlisle tells us. “It looks pretty comfortable too…want to try it out Alice?”

She looks pretty doubtful, but she lets him take her out of my arms and settle her into the seat, where he takes his time adjusting the straps, consulting the manual and asking her if it’s comfortable. When everything is secure to his satisfaction he pats her knee and stands up. “She’s all set. I’ve got some work to take care of now, so I’ll be home later.”

He jogs off towards the hospital entrance, and Esme puts Alice’s bag on the seat next to her and gets into the driver’s side. It’s a quiet drive back to the Cullens’ house. Once we get there I grab the trash bags with our things and walk awkwardly into the house, with Alice gripping a fold of my jeans and stumbling into me as she walks beside me.

“I’ll take those bags,” Esme says when we are finally inside. “I didn’t keep the clean clothes and dirty clothes separate when I was packing, so I’ll just run them all through the washer and dryer now.”

She’s being diplomatic- most of the clothes fall somewhere on the line between ‘filthy’ and ‘not too visibly disgusting’…it’s been a while since I did any laundry that wasn’t wet bedsheets, and ‘clean’ is a bit of a distant memory.

Alice is wide-eyed as she looks around, refusing to let go of my jeans even as Esme disappears to the laundry. “What should we do?” she whispers.

“What do you want to do?”

Alice holds onto my jeans with one hand and her bunny with the other and just blinks at me. She clearly doesn’t know _what_ to do.

“Look who I found!” Esme says brightly, coming back into the kitchen with her hands full of cat. “I thought you might want to say hello to Catkin.”

Alice drags me across the kitchen with her, and then hands me her bunny so she can stroke the little cat’s black fur. “Ooh, you are so cute little cat,” she croons. “Little fluffy kitty…”

Catkin puts up with it for a little while and then jumps out of Esme’s arms and stalks across the kitchen, heading towards the living room. Alice follows her, but then an attack of shyness hits and she freezes.

“Let me show you where everything is,” Esme suggests.

She takes Alice’s hand and leads her around the house, showing her each room, giving her a chance to use the bathroom, then ending in a small, blue painted room with a white painted daybed, a large table and an oversized armoire, and a bookshelf packed with books.

“This is where you can sleep,” Esme tells Alice. “I usually do my sewing in here, but I think it will be just right for your bedroom while you’re here. It’s next to the bathroom and just down the hall from Emmett. Now, the doctor told me that you need to be very careful and rest a lot, so I think you should watch a movie and have a little lie down on the sofa.”

I don’t know what else to do but sit with Alice on the sofa while Esme goes through her Netflix options with her. After giving out a dose of Tylenol Esme goes to the kitchen, and once she’s gone Alice crawls onto my lap.

“This house is funny,” she whispers.

“Yeah?”

“It’s so fancy.” Alice strokes the soft suede-like fabric of the sofa. “And it has a different smell.”

“It smells like money,” I whisper back to her, and she giggles and swats at my mouth.

“No it doesn’t! It smells like…clean. And new.” Alice jams her thumb in her mouth and turns her attention back to the tv, where the Aristocats has begun. “It’s so beautiful and fancy,” she adds in a muffled voice.

But she stays on my lap, and when I shift us so that I can lie down on the sofa she curls up against my stomach and pulls my arm over her, safe and sheltering. She’s round and warm and familiar, and feeling her regular breathing and the occasional jiggle as she giggles at the movie lifts a huge weight of fear. _She’s okay._ The relaxing of the tension I’ve been feeling since I woke up and found her white and unconscious is blissful, and I surreptitiously kiss Alice on her head and close my eyes. _We’ll both be okay._

___________________________________________________

I wake up with a crick in my neck from sleeping on the sofa, and Alice nowhere to be seen. The leap of terror in my belly at her disappearance is so strong it’s almost painful, and before I know it I’m on my feet and on the hunt for her.

I don’t have far to go. Alice is in the kitchen with Esme, standing on a chair so she can reach the counter top, messily spreading frosting on cupcakes. The smile that breaks over her face when she sees me looks more like the Alice I know than anything I’ve seen from her since she got sick.

“Look, I made cupcakes!”

I take a deep breath to settle my panic. “That’s great Monkey. I can’t wait to eat one.”

“They’re chocolate, my favourite.” Edward suddenly appears from the pantry and hands Alice a small bag, giving me a slightly awkward grin.

“Edward helped,” Alice told me, taking the bag and flinging sprinkles over her cupcakes with wild enthusiasm. “But only a little bit.”

“Do you mind if I have some milk?” I ask Esme.

“Of course not! You don’t have to ask Emmett, you can help yourself to anything you want,” Esme says cheerfully. She’s kneading some dough, and I start to feel like I’m in a cooking show.

I get the milk and pour myself a glass. “You want some Monkey? It’s real milk, not powdered.” Alice nods, and after a beat of hesitation I say, “Edward? Do you want some too?”

“Uh…sure.” Edward sits down at the table and takes the glass. “Thanks.”

Alice proudly hands out her finished cupcakes to Edward and I, and then takes one for herself and sits up at the table to eat it. “Is it good?” she asks me. “Is it the best cupcake?”

“Sure is.” I’m not even lying. I don’t eat a lot of home baked goods, and the cake is fresh and delicious. “Can I have another?”

Milk and cake. Even after a stressful day the food is enough to make my spirits rise.

“Edward can play the piano,” Alice tells me. “He said he would show me when you woke up, right?”

Edward looks a little embarrassed. “Yes…what do you want me to play?”

He heads towards the piano room, Alice scurrying after him. I swallow the last of my milk and follow them. Alice has clearly already decided that Edward is worthy of her affection, but I want to keep an eye on them. I figure he can’t be that bad if he’s Carlisle and Esme’s kid, but Alice can be indiscriminate with her friendship and it doesn’t always go well.

The piano room is actually a library, with bookcases lining the walls. I can’t believe the amount of books they have in this house! Surely no one could possible ever read that much?

Edward sits down at the piano and plays a scale. “What do you want me to play?”

Alice looks stumped. “I don’t know…can you play happy birthday?”

Edward laughs. “Yes.” The sheet music on the piano is obviously not ‘Happy Birthday’, but Edward plays the tune for Alice, and then moves into something else.

“Let it go!” Alice shouts gleefully. “You can play Frozen!” She sings along, happily spinning around until she staggers.

“Woah Monkey, you’re supposed to be taking it easy,” I say, holding her steady. I look across at Edward. “Seriously? Let it Go?”

He ducks his head and laughs. “Yes. We have a thing at my school, community groups, where older students run activities for the elementary kids. I play piano for a choir made up mostly of first and second graders…their catalogue is pretty heavy on Disney.”

He doesn’t even stop playing while he talks, and he looks different when he’s relaxed. Friendlier. I wonder what it was like for him to grow up with parents like Esme and Carlisle, and how different it might have been to my life with Momma.

I keep thinking about Momma, wondering what she’s doing, if she’s out of jail…wondering if she’s thinking about me and Alice and what we’re doing. It plays on my mind while I watch Edward play the piano for Alice, and then while we eat dinner and I help Carlisle and Edward clean up the kitchen while Esme takes Alice to clean her teeth. I don’t even know what the rules for contact are, but eventually I just come straight out and ask Carlisle if I can use the phone to try and call her.

“Of course you can. You don’t have a cell phone?” I shake my head, and Carlisle hands me the landline phone handset. “Use this one then.”

He leaves the room to give me some privacy, and I dial Momma’s cell, sitting cross legged on the floor and biting my knuckles as I listen to it ring. _Please pick up Momma…I need to talk to you._

“Yeah?”

I exhale hard. “It’s Emmett.”

“Baby! What’s happening? I can’t believe they took you away, and Mark…did you know they’re not letting him out? Fucking charging him with everything, and me…like when did I ever neglect you baby?...fuck, jail because Alice was a dumbass…”

Momma’s talking fast enough to make me think she’s come directly home from jail and dived straight back into her stash. Shouldn’t the cops have taken all that shit away?

“She’s just a little kid,” I say, interrupting. “And she’s fine now, since you asked.”

“What do you want from me, Em? Do you know what I’ve had to go through over the last two days? Do you have any fucking idea what jail is LIKE?”

_Not really…but it’s probably not any worse than watching Alice having seizures and getting brain damaged and not even knowing if she’s going to be alive at the end of the day._

But Momma is winding up for an explosion and I’m nothing if not a peacemaker, so I take a deep breath and don’t say any of that. “Sorry Momma. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, and tell you that me and Alice are staying here at the Cullens for now and we’re doing fine.”

“Yeah, that social worker told me. You’re staying with…the doctor, right? Something like that…and she said Alice is out of hospital, so I don’t know why the hell you couldn’t have just come home. Especially since the assholes are keeping Mark locked up.” I can hear Momma grinding her teeth. “It’s all just so fucking stupid, Emmett!”

“I know, I know,” I say, trying to calm her down. “But it won’t be for very long.”

“Oh sure, rehab and some parenting classes, no big deal, I can do that, easy…” Momma babbles. “I won’t let you down, you know that…You’re okay then? They’re treating you okay?”

“Yeah, they’re good people. The food is good.” I become aware that I’m biting my knuckles hard enough to bruise. I don’t know what to say, and Momma is way too fucked up for the conversation I wish we could have.

_Don’t you even care about what’s happening here?_

“Is Mommy on the phone?”

I curse inwardly as Alice runs up beside me, dressed in fresh pyjamas and smelling of toothpaste. Alice talking to Momma when she’s in this state is just asking for trouble, but before I can try and talk Alice out of it she’s wrestling the phone out of my hands, already babbling furiously.

“Mommy, we’re staying with Mrs Esme and Dr Carlisle and they have a cat and a piano and Edward who can play songs and I was in the hospital and they gave me a _needle_ and I have new pyjamas and Emmett said I had a ride in an ambulance but I don’t remember and…and…and…” Alice’s rapid-fire chatter fades away and her lip quivers. Through the handset I can hear Momma yelling at her.

“Oh Monkey.” I grit my teeth and take the phone in one hand, using the other one to pull Alice into my lap. “Don’t cry….Momma, please leave her alone.”

I hold the phone away from my ear as Momma screams a few more insults and obscenities in my direction, praying that no one else comes into the room and hears this.

“Okay, Momma, we have to go now. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” I say loudly, hoping she can hear me. “I love you.”

I cut the call and hug Alice tightly. I hate the way Momma is with her sometimes! Alice is practically a baby…she doesn’t mean to make trouble. “It’s okay Monkey.”

“Mommy was so mad at me.” Alice’s eyes are welling with tears.

“She’s just…not feeling so great. You know how she is, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s all my fault that we have to be here.” Alice hides her face against my shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” I say, trying to be cheerful. “Really, it’s all my fault…what kind of brother doesn’t watch out for his Monkey and lets her get sick? A big doofus brother called Emmett, that’s who!”

I tickle her and she comes up laughing; and I hope, not for the first time in my life, that I can be enough. Enough for her, enough for me…there isn’t any other option. I have to be enough.


	10. More Problems

At around 8.30 Carlisle puts down his book and stretches. “You’re looking sleepy Alice…do you want me to read you a story before bed?”

Alice looks up. She’s been watching The Simpsons with me, sucking her thumb and stroking Catkin, who is curled up on the sofa beside her. “Is it bedtime?” she says, looking at me uncertainly.

I shrug. “You look pretty tired. Do you want to go to bed?”

She doesn’t say no, but she doesn’t look too sure either. Momma used to put Alice to bed, but since she moved into my room she pretty much just falls asleep whenever she gets tired enough to pass out.

“Come on sweetie,” Esme says. “We’ll go to the bathroom and then you can hop into bed and Carlisle will read to you.”

“I can help her,” I say, beginning to push myself up.

“Don’t worry Emmett, we’ll take care of her. Say goodnight, Alice.”

It feels so strange to say goodnight to her, and then watch her disappear down the hallway towards the bedrooms without me. I bite my knuckles and listen to the distant murmur of voices as Alice gets settled and Carlisle reads. I’m so focused that I nearly jump out of my skin when Edward suddenly drops onto the other end of the sofa.

“What are you watching?” he asks.

“Uh, it was The Simpsons, but you can watch whatever you want.” I toss the remote at him.

He catches it, but places it on the sofa between us. “This is fine. Where are Carlisle and Esme?”

“Reading to Alice.” My attention is caught by the fact that he called them by their names. “Why do you call them Carlisle and Esme?”

“Instead of Mom and Dad, you mean?” Edward scratches the cat’s head. “I do say mom and dad sometimes, but they’re not my biological parents and I started out calling them Carlisle and Esme, so sometimes that feels more natural.”

I’m completely surprised by this revelation. He doesn’t look like them and Carlisle and Esme both seem too young to have a teenager unless they conceived him when they were about twelve, but he so evidently belongs here that I wouldn’t have questioned it. “How come you…I mean, how did…?” I don’t know how to ask if he was a foster kid too.

Edward sees what I’m trying to say. “My mother and Carlisle were friends in medical school and then worked in the same hospital. She didn’t have any other family, so when her cancer was first diagnosed she asked Carlisle if he’d take care of me if it were to go badly.” He shrugs. “It went badly. So Carlisle became my guardian when I was three, and then he married Esme a year or so later and she adopted me too.”

Esme and Carlisle come back into the room and hear the tail end of Edward’s story.

“My ready-made son,” Esme says affectionately. “You were a lovely bonus when I fell in love with Carlisle.”

“Is Alice okay?” I ask.

Carlisle nods. “Looking half asleep as we finished the story. I’ve left the hallway light on and her door open so that she can see what’s she’s doing.” He looks over at Esme. “Scrabble? Edward, Emmett, do you want to play too?”

I shake my head before he’s even finished talking. A game that’s all about _spelling?_ Good Lord, no. “Nah, I’m good.”

Edward turns them down too. Esme fetches the game from the piano room and she and Carlisle start setting up. I am watching them in fascination when I catch sight of Alice’s tiny face peeking around the corner.

“Hey Monkey…are you okay?”

“I need a drink of water.”

I help her get one from the kitchen and then see her back to bed, but I’m not surprised when three minutes later I see her face at the door again. This time, rather than drawing attention to her, I get and take her hand and draw her back to her bedroom.

“I want to watch tv,” Alice says, sitting up in bed and twiddling with her bunny’s ears. “I don’t like going to bed by myself.”

“It’s a nice bedroom,” I say, and then laugh at the look at disgust she gives me. “Do you want me to stay for a while?”

She nods. Only when I’ve dropped to the floor in the doorway, back against one side, knees drawn up and feet against the other, does she lie down in bed again, and a moment after that I hear her soft voice.

“Emmett, what is Mommy doing now?”

“Don’t know.” I worry at my knuckles with my teeth. “I guess she’s at home…maybe watching tv?”

“Is Mark watching tv too, do you know?” I can hardly hear her.

“Nah, he’s in jail,” I say lightly. “He’s probably locked in a dungeon with snakes and rats.”

Alice giggles, but I haven’t turned her mind away from it and a moment later she says softly, “I want him to stay in jail. I don’t like him at our house.”

“I know, Monkey.”

“He’s mean.”

“I know, Monkey.”

I feel sick just thinking about him. I’ve never cared what he did to _me_ – I’m big enough to take it and even when it hurts I can just brush it off. But Alice…she’s a kid, small and defenceless, and there’s a whole world of hurt that he can inflict on her that will leave lasting scars. I never wanted her to experience anything of what I went though with her father, and I’ve tried so hard to protect her…

“You’re safe here now,” I say at last.

It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep, but even when her breathing deepens and slows I don’t get up. The daybed seems so much bigger than her princess bed at home, and tucked up in it Alice seems so little and vulnerable. My head knows that there’s nothing to fear here, that this house is safe, but my heart still feels like Alice and I are surrounded by dragons. I can’t leave her alone.

I fall asleep sitting up in the doorway, my head drooping forward over my knees, and am awoken by a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Emmett? You should go and get some sleep. Alice will be fine.”

It’s Esme. I rub my eyes and yawn, and half smile at her. “I know. I just…I’ll go to bed in a minute, okay?”

“All right. I’m heading off to bed now too, so sleep well.” She pats me one last time, and then walks quietly down the hall.

I wait until she’s gone and the kitchen light at the end of the hall turns dark before I get to my feet. Even then I wait for a moment, making sure no one in the house is stirring before I go into Alice’s room and scoop her up, comforter and bunny and all.

I can’t leave her alone. Last time I left her alone when I should have been watching her she nearly died and that led to this whole mess…I’m not going to do it again. I carry her down the hall to my room and place her gently on the bed, and she doesn’t even stir.

I brush my teeth and get dressed in the pyjamas Esme bought for me, even though I haven’t owned a pair of pyjamas since I was a kid and these ones feel new and weird. Then, before I can go to sleep, I gather up my stash of food. I add the trail mix and granola bars from the Cullens’ pantry to the crackers and peanut butter and powdered milk I had hidden in the pocket of my backpack. I need to have it, but I don’t want anyone to find it. I look around the room, and finally pull out the bottom drawer of the dresser, which has a small space underneath. It’s big enough to fit everything, and you won’t see it unless you pull the drawer completely out – and who would do that? Once everything is hidden and I’m lying on the bed with Alice’s feet in my back, that’s when it starts to feel, just a little bit, like safety.

__________________________________________________

I wake up to knocking on the door and the anxious tones of Esme. “Emmett, it’s time to get up for school. Is Alice in there with you? She’s not in her bed.”

“Yeah…she’s here…I’m getting up.”

Alice is asleep with her head at other end of the bed, I roll over and sit up, dismayed to find that my pyjama pants are damp from the knees down. I can’t help swearing.

“Are you okay?” Esme calls.

“Alice wet the bed.”

Esme opens the door. “Do you need some help?”

“It’s just wet, I’ll sort it out…” The comforter I was under is still dry and I toss it onto the floor, but Alice and her blanket are drenched. I’ll have to wake her up.

“Emmett,” Alice complains, burrowing back into the bed. “Go away…oh no.” As soon as she realises the bed is wet she sits up, and when she sees Esme standing in the doorway she bursts into tears. “I didn’t mean it!”

“It’s okay,” I say, tugging her off the bed and starting to unbutton her wet things.

“It was just an accident,” Esme adds gently, coming over and stripping the bed. “We’ll just wash the sheets and give you a bath and…”

“No!” Alice, tangled in the wet pyjama pants I’m trying to peel off her legs, lunges at me so hard I only just manage to save her from falling headfirst on to the floor. “No bath, you said no bath, you said I didn’t have to!” She’s really wailing, her voice rising in pitch with every word.

_Geez, what a way to start the morning._

“She means a shower!” I wrap my arms around Alice, temporarily muffling her cries in my chest. “A shower, Monkey, like always…”

Esme kneels beside me and rubs Alice’s back. “You don’t have to get in the tub if you don’t want to Alice, I promise. I forgot you didn’t like them, that’s all…you can hop right into the shower. No bath.”

Alice looks at Esme. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Esme smiles winningly. “You don’t need to get upset. You just tell me what you would like and we’ll try to sort it out, okay?”

“Okay.” Alice leans against me. “But I want Emmett to help, not you.”

Esme nods, and I rise to my feet. “Go to the bathroom then Alice,” I say, “Take off your jammies, and I’ll be in to help in a minute.”

She trots off and I start bundling up the wet sheets. “I’ll put all this in the washer once I’ve got the pyjamas,” I tell Esme. “I’m really sorry about all this. I don’t know…she doesn’t usually get that upset about wetting the bed.”

“She’s in a strange place with new people, she’s separated from her mother, and she’s been through a traumatic medical event as well,” Esme says. “It’s perfectly understandable. And very common for foster children during transition times, which is why all our beds have waterproof mattress covers on them,” she adds with a grin.

I can’t help laughing. “Well I guess that makes this easier to clean up.”

“It does. Give me the sheets and go and help Alice and have a shower yourself, and then we’ll have breakfast before school.” Esme takes the soggy sheets from my hands and leaves, and I head towards the bathroom.

Alice stays in the shower as long as I’ll let her and then, since she won’t go to her room and look for clothes without me, I wrap her in a towel and make her turn her back while I jump in and have the quickest scrub possible. All our clothes have been washed and folded and tucked away in drawers, so I have to dig around a bit to find everything, but eventually Alice and I are both dressed and in the kitchen for breakfast.

“I’ve got some steel cut oats and strawberries if you’d like that?” Esme offers.

“Sounds great, thank you.”

How can they make even oatmeal taste this good? I usually eat whatever I can scrounge together for breakfast, or go without if there isn’t anything, and this hot, deliciously filling food is a totally different start to the day.

Alice is a lot less enthusiastic. She’s a picky eater at the best of time, and unfamiliar food in an unfamiliar place doesn’t stand much of a chance. She picks out the strawberries and licks her spoon a couple of times, but that’s about it.

“What do we do today?” she asks me.

I grimace. “I have to go to school.”

“You can stay home with Carlisle and I,” Esme tells Alice. “You still need to rest and make sure your head is all better before you can go back to school. We’ll find something to do here at home. You did such a good job with the cupcakes the other day, maybe we could try some more cooking?”

Alice looks frightened. “Can’t Emmett stay here too?”

Cutting another day of school doesn’t seem like a big deal, and I shrug and open my mouth to say yes, but Esme beats me to the punch.

“Emmett has to go to school,” she says firmly. “But he’ll be back this afternoon.”

I nod encouragingly at Alice. “You don’t need to worry, I’ll come back here.”

I know she doesn’t like the idea, but she’s also not confident enough here to make her objections vocal either. I feel bad that she’s scared, but I have to admit a little guiltily that it’s easier when she’s not making a fuss. I grin at her and take her barely touched breakfast to finish it off.

Carlisle comes into the room, whistling and swinging a set of keys around his fingers. “I’ve got a day off today,” he says cheerfully. “I’ll drive you to school, Emmett?”

“Do you need lunch money?” Esme asks.

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”

“I don’t want you going hungry,” Esme says. “So if you need money, or a packed lunch…”

I laugh. “We get free lunch, so don’t worry about it.”

“Edward!” Carlisle calls. “Time to go! Emmett, you’d better get your bag.”

Alice gives me a strangling hug before I can even get up from the table. I have to prise her arms from around my neck to get free and she looks pretty woebegone as I leave, but I know she’ll be fine with Esme. And even though I generally have some pretty mixed feelings about school, part of me is glad to go and just be doing something normal.

At least, I’m quite glad to be there until I hit my homeroom and am told to turn myself around and march straight to the principal’s office. I don’t know what I could have done, considering I wasn’t even _here_ yesterday, but my teacher doesn’t answer any questions. So there’s nothing for it but to shrug and take a walk.

Davis’ PA, Ms Miller, is in the outer office and obviously expecting me. She just nods to one of the chairs and I take a seat, while she continues with her work. This isn’t exactly an unfamiliar situation to either of us.

Eventually Davis opens his door and calls me in. “Emmett, glad to see you made it here today,” he says sarcastically.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” I say cheerfully, immediately regretting it as any traces of friendliness in his face disappears. I give an apologetic half smile and sit down.

Davis takes his seat and frowns at me across his desk. “This isn’t a time for jokes Emmett. You’re facing suspension this time.”

I fold my hands together to keep them out of my mouth. “Okay.”

“We’ve reached the end of the line here Emmett,” he says. “You and I have talked about your abysmal attendance record, as well as your poor efforts and results, many times over the years. You’ve been given more than enough time and chances to improve, and nothing has happened. It’s time now to bring in your mother and have a serious talk about where your future is going, and you’ll have a three day suspension to think it through.”

I blink in surprise. This all sounds serious, and was really not what I was expecting.

“I’ve tried multiple times over the last week to call your mother, but she hasn’t returned my calls,” Davis says.

“Oh yeah…I don’t think she’ll be able to come in for a while.”

“That’s not an option Emmett, this needs to be dealt with now.” Davis says flatly.

I bite my knuckles. “It’s a bit difficult at the moment…”

“Emmett!”

“I’m just…not living with her at the moment,” I mutter. “So, I don’t know how long it will be before we can do a conference…”

Davis takes a deep breath. “Emmett. Do you, or do you not, have an adult currently taking responsibility for you?”

Sensing he’s not going to let this go, I sigh and pull the tattered paper with Esme’s phone number on it out of my jacket pocket and pass it across the desk. “Esme Cullen. I’m staying with her and her husband.”

_As if I haven’t caused them enough drama…now this?_


	11. The Trouble With School

Davis takes the paper and boots me out of the office while he calls Esme. As I sit and wait my stomach starts hurting…this is the last thing I need after the weekend I’ve just had! And okay, he’s not wrong about all the warnings and ‘discussions’ he’s had with me, but it’s not like I cause a lot of trouble or anything. I’m behind on a few assignments and the grades on things I’ve handed in have been pretty much rubbish, but I’ve only cut a couple of days and, well, a _few_ classes here and there…

“I’ve missed _that_ many days?”

Davis has called me back in after a lengthy wait cooling my heels in the outer office, and handed me my attendance record. Even I’m pretty surprised when I see how many absences there are.

“Yes, and none of them excused.”

I don’t answer that. Momma can’t even remember what day it is half the time, she’s not going to remember to call the absence line at school even when I have a decent excuse. And some of those days I was sick or Alice was sick, or Mark had had a go at me and I had stayed home to avoid questions.

“It’s just not good enough Emmett, and it leads straight to the other problems. You miss too much instruction time, you don’t put in the effort required to catch up, and so your grades suffer. Even when you’re here, you’re simply not doing the work and your teachers have had enough of it. You’ve scraped through in previous years, but even at this early point in the year I don’t think it’s going to be possible for you to pass junior year.” Davis shakes his head. “You’re even failing _gym_.”

“That’s because that little dictator drops your grade if you don’t bring your gym uniform, and I don’t have…”

“It’s not time for excuses now, Emmett.”

I grind my teeth. Okay, I’m a dumbass and deserve most of my failing grades, but failing gym is just flat out not fair. The asshole coach drops your grade if you forget your gym uniform, and I don’t have one anymore. I’ve grown so much since I got it freshman year that it’s practically a crop top and speedos now, so it’s not even like I can just squeeze into it. And I’m down to two pairs of socks without holes and three pairs with holes that I can’t find money to replace, so there’s certainly none for even a second hand gym uniform. But it’s not like anyone ever listens, so I scowl obstinately and don’t even try to explain. I know there’s no point.

Davis hands me another printout, this time of my grades. I’m not really surprised, but it’s still pretty bleak to see it all there in black and white. I’ve scraped a B in art class, but apart from that I’m failing everything.

“You can see it’s not good, Emmett,” he says.

Before I can say anything, his phone buzzes and he answers. “Yes…send them in.”

I’m expecting Esme and that’s bad enough, but when she comes into the office accompanied by Carlisle and Alice I want to run from the room. What the hell?

Alice comes and climbs on my lap, and at least by wrapping my arms around her I stop myself from biting on my hands.

“What did you _do_?” she breathes, eyes wide. “It’s the _principal_ , Emmett!”

“Mr Davis, I’m Esme Cullen, and this is my husband Dr Carlisle Cullen. We’ve taken over guardianship of Emmett for the time being, until his mother is able to resume custody. I placed a call to your school early this morning to discuss the change of circumstances today, and was hoping to hear from you.”

“I haven’t got the messages yet, so we’ll have to discuss it now.” Davis looks mildly uncomfortable.

All the adults shake hands and sort out chairs, and I squirm in my seat and wish I were small enough to hide behind Alice.

“Thank you for coming in today,” Davis starts in. “I’m afraid it’s all rather unfortunate timing, given the circumstances, but this situation has to be addressed. Unless there’s a firm date for when I’ll be able to speak to his mother, I think we need to deal with it now.”

He waits, and Esme shakes her head. “The arrangement is open-ended at the moment; we’ll have guardianship for the foreseeable future.”

“Okay then. To be blunt, for Emmett to have any possibility of passing the eleventh grade there needs to be a drastic change in his attitude. His current level of attendance and completion of work is just not enough.” He passes my attendance record and grades across to the Cullens, who scan them silently.

I reach over and yank the papers out of Carlisle’s hand. “Look, this is NOT your problem. You’re helping me and Alice out, but this crap isn’t part of the deal.” I am so furiously embarrassed I can’t even look at them.

“Don’t get upset,” Esme says gently.

“Emmett, _something_ has to be done,” Davis says, clearly frustrated. “It was borderline whether you’d even be allowed to continue at school here with this record. We’ve bought it down to suspension, to give you a final chance to see that it’s serious and change your attitude!”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Well maybe I should just quit right now and save us all the trouble? I mean, I’m an idiot, everyone knows that…”

“Let’s hold it there.” Carlisle puts up a hand to stop me. “Mr Davis, thanks for calling us in. Obviously we’re not familiar with Emmett’s school performance just yet. Whilst I’m not really sure that suspension is a reasonable consequence here, considering what Emmett has going on in his home life right now, I think we’ll accept it and Esme and I will take Emmett home now and have a chat about what’s been going on. As Esme said, we’re not sure how long he’ll be with us, but I can see that this has to be addressed now so we’ll be in touch again once we’ve talked it through with him.”

Carlisle can certainly defuse a situation. Davis nods and everyone stands up and says goodbye and then I’m being steered firmly out of the office and into the hallway.

“Where is your locker?” Carlisle asks me. “We’ll get your books so we can go through your assignments and work out what we need to do.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I mutter, adding honestly. “Actually…I’d kind of prefer it if you didn’t.”

I’m not exactly joking but Esme and Carlisle laugh anyway, which is a little reassuring. I am beyond embarrassed and pissed off that on practically the first day they’re in charge I get them called into school to deal with my crap, but at least they’re not too mad about it.

“Let’s get your books anyway,” Carlisle says cheerfully. “It’s my day off, and what better way to spend it than catching up on the current eleventh grade curriculum?”

There’s hardly anything in my locker anyway. All the textbooks were so expensive that all I have are the math and science ones, old copies given to me by my teacher when he saw I didn’t have any. As well as those, my locker holds a baseball, a copy of the English novel I’m supposed to be reading that I borrowed from the library and currently owe five dollars and forty cents in overdue fines on, and a whole lot of paper. Returned assignments and failed quizzes mixed in with piles of drawings and letterings and notes in my scribbly handwriting, and I start shuffling it into a pile so I can fit it in my backpack.

Alice takes the novel and looks at it. “To kill a…m…m…mo…something…bird,” she sounds out. “What’s that word say?”

“You can already read better than me, Monkey,” I say.

At the same time, Esme says, “It says ‘mockingbird’ Alice. To Kill a Mockingbird…it’s one of my favourite books. Do you like it, Emmett?”

“I haven’t got that far in it yet,” I say, snatching it off Alice and stuffing it recklessly into my bag. I shove the textbooks back in and slam the locker door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Back at the Cullens’ house, Carlisle settles Alice at the coffee table in the living room with her markers and a colouring book while Esme makes some coffee. Then the two of them sit at the kitchen table, and I reluctantly pull out a chair and join them. There’s a long silence.

“So…would I be correct in assuming that school is not your happy place?” Carlisle says at last.

“You got me.” I can’t help laughing. The whole situation is mortifying, but it’s not as though me being a failure at school is anything new. “Look, I’m really sorry about you having to come down to school and all, but you really don’t have to do anything here…”

“I think while you’re here with us we may as well at least look into what’s going on,” Esme says. “We might be able to help.”

I can’t help but make a face. “I’ve been flunking out of school since kindergarten…good luck with that.”

“So it’s not new? Having trouble with your grades?” Carlisle asks. He looks at the list of grades and attendance, which is lying on the table between us. “And your attendance…is there a reason you’re cutting so much school?”

“I didn’t know it was so much,” I admit. “I mean, sometimes I just didn’t go, but I was sick a few days and Alice had the flu for over a week and sometimes…you know. Stuff happens.”

Carlisle nods. “Okay. Look, truancy is pretty common when home life is difficult, and what’s done is done. While you’re with us you’ll be expected to go every day, and we’ll support you in doing that. As for your grades…” he pauses. “What’s going on there?”

I shift uncomfortably on my chair. I’m starting to sweat…I hate this. “I’m just a dumbass, that’s all.”

“Is it the work that’s difficult?” Esme wants to know. “Or is it just being organised with your assignments and homework?”

“Well…I’m not that organised,” I mutter. “But it’s not just that.”

“May I have a look at your notebook? Do you have a school planner?” Carlisle asks.

I don’t have a planner, and it’s really reluctantly that I hand over my binder. It’s a mess, paper jammed in every which way and drawings and scribbles interspersed with scrawled school notes. Carlisle flips through it, his eyes scanning everything quickly, a slight frown beginning to form.

“Do you think there’s anything in particular that causes you trouble?” he asks.

“Everything,” I mutter. “I’m just plain stupid.”

Carlisle is looking at my papers again, more slowly this time, Esme leaning over to look too. “Have you always struggled?” she asks.

“I told you, I’ve been barely passing since kindergarten.”

“Do you know why?” Carlisle persists.

They’re obviously not going to just give this up. My ears are burning with embarrassment as I take a deep breath and say roughly, “Look…I’m stupid. Slow. I didn’t even learn to read properly until like third grade, and I’m still shit at it. So I appreciate that you want to help and all, but I pretty much just suck at school and that’s it.” I lean back in my chair and fold my arms.

Carlisle and Esme don’t seem fazed by my borderline rudeness. The just nod, like what I’ve said makes sense, and then Carlisle asks, “Were you ever tested for learning disabilities?”

“I don’t know,” I run a hand through my hair. “Don’t they just test you all the time? I’m always failing things…I think the teachers mostly just let me go to the next grade because they were sick of me.”

Esme laughs. “I hope you don’t think we’re really coming down on you Emmett. But with all your troubles at school, and it taking you longer than usual to learn to read, it seems like assessments should have been done to get the root of the problem.”

“Look, maybe there were? My grandma used to go up to school and talk to my teachers, and Momma did some too when I was in elementary school.” I shrug. I don’t remember any more than that.

“I’ll ask Mr Davis about it when I call him back,” Carlisle says. “It sounds as if there really _should_ have been some testing done, so it might be in your records. I’ll ask him what the school is going to do to help you get back on track to graduate with your class. Next time you talk to your mom you could ask her about whether there were any assessments done too.” He looks frustrated. “There _should_ have been more done for you, just looking through your notebook I can see...but sometimes kids fall through the cracks, especially if they don’t have a strong advocate.”

I slump a little further in my chair. This is all too much…my whole life has been turned upside down and while they have the best intentions in the world, it’s like Carlisle and Esme are taking over. And it’s all so _pointless_ …I’m just so fucking dumb that nothing they can do will make any difference. Especially since I’ll be going back home to Momma as soon as possible, and she for damn sure doesn’t give a shit about school.

“Can we stop with this now?” I say wearily. “I suck at school. I’m sorry I got suspended and you got dragged into it. If you want me to leave I can figure something out…”

“We don’t want you to leave!” Esme exclaims. “We’re more than happy to have you and Alice staying here until you can go back home.”

“We just want to help,” Carlisle adds. “School is a big part of your life, and if we can figure out how you can get the most out of it then I think that will be a good thing. Not everyone is academic, but in today’s world you really need a high school diploma.”

“I get that, but…” My words trail off.

“It’s okay,” Carlisle says. “We’ll give it a rest for now...we can talk more after I’ve spoken to your principal and see what he has to say.”

I don’t wait, but hurriedly get up and go to find Alice. She’s colouring in a page of birds and I take a marker and sit beside her. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She gives me a purple marker and points to a toucan. “You can colour him. Don’t you have to go to school anymore?”

I start in on the bird. “Not for a couple of days. Which seems pretty dumb…I don’t go to school, so they suspend me and make me miss _more_ school…but at least now I can stay here with you.” I draw a knitted cap and scarf on the toucan.

“Is Mommy coming today?”

I sigh. “No. She can’t come to the Cullens, so we won’t see her for a little while, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Alice frowns, carefully colouring each feather on a parrot a different colour. “Is she still mad at me for being sick?”

“It’s not your fault,” I say again. “Momma won’t be mad at you.”

I keep colouring with Alice until she complains of a headache and lies down on the sofa. She asks me to read her a story, but the last thing I feel like doing after a morning discussing my stupidity is reading, so I make up a story instead. Alice falls asleep within five minutes, so I guess it was appropriately boring and I’m pretty relieved I don’t have to actually think up too many plot points.

“Is she asleep again?” Carlisle asks from the doorway. “I was just coming in to say it’s time for lunch.”

I get to my feet. “Is it okay that she’s sleeping so much? She doesn’t usually nap at all.”

“She’s recovering from a pretty serious neurological event and sleep is good for healing. We’re keeping an eye on her, but so far I’m not worried,” Carlisle answers. “Come and have some lunch.”

There are sandwiches for lunch, with cold meat and salad and about twelve different condiments to go on them. It’s definitely not the pb&j that I slap together for Alice sometimes.

The food is great, but it doesn’t work its usual magic in cheering me up and once I’m done I wander out to the backyard. It’s well kept, with a patio and a grill, some trees and flowers and a birdbath, but it’s surrounded by a six foot privacy fence and there isn’t really anywhere to go. I sit down on the back step, biting my knuckles and staring morosely out into the yard.

_Why does it all have to be so HARD?_


	12. Wait and See

“Here you go.” Esme hands me a glass of juice and then takes a seat on the patio, facing me. “Carlisle gave me a Vitamix for my birthday, so I’m still experimenting with juicing. What do you think?”

I take a swallow. “It’s good. Very…healthy.”

She laughs. “I’ve saved some for Alice too.” Her face turns serious. “Are you okay?”

“I was just thinking about home. Our yard backs onto…well, it’s really just a stream, but I always called it the river. I mean, it looked a lot bigger to me when I was a kid! I used to play down there all the time, making cubbies in the bushes and throwing stones and wading, and pretending to go fishing, that kind of thing. It’s the best place to be alone…” My voice trails away. I don’t even know why I’m talking.

“It sounds like a good way to grow up.” Esme says. “Did you always live there?”

“Most of the time. It was my grandma’s house, and she wouldn’t let Momma move in any guys so a couple of times we moved out for a while, but I still stayed there a lot. And then when Grandma died we moved back for good.”

“I know it’s hard for you to not be able to be there right now,” Esme says sympathetically. “And with the school problem on top of it, I’m sure you’re feeling a bit stressed.”

I mumble noncommittally. I don’t want to talk about school.

I guess Esme doesn’t notice. “We’ve spoken to Mr Davis again,” she goes on. “In your records there are some incomplete results from testing and some partial assessments…it’s a disgrace that these things weren’t followed up, and frankly I think the school has a lot to answer for. There’s a possibility that you have some kind of learning disability that has made things much harder for you than they should have been. Properly diagnosed, you could have had individually tailored learning plans that would have made so much difference to you at school.”

“Does it even matter anymore? It’s junior year and I’m not getting into any college, so who cares? The only reason I haven’t dropped out is because it’s not like there are any jobs around here…I’ve looked.”

“Well, we can’t solve all of the future’s problems,” Esme says cheerfully. “Not immediately, anyway. But after talking to Mr Davis, Carlisle and I talked to Mara and the three of us think that if we can organise it we’ll get you assessed for specific learning difficulties while you’re under our care. That will give us a starting point for helping you with school.”

I don’t say anything. For a moment I wish I could be Alice, asleep on the sofa; all she has to worry about is what movie she wants to watch next. Besides…she’s only in the first grade and she reads fine.

“I’m sorry that there’s so much pressure on you right now,” Esme says after a long silence. “Please let me know if there’s anything at all that you need or want from us.”

“I want my mom,” I mutter, my throat tight. “I know you all think she’s the worst, but…it’s not like she has the easiest life, and she _tries…_ sometimes…”

“I understand you must miss her. Mara is trying to arrange some visitation, so you should be able to see her again soon,” Esme says.

“She’s not the greatest mom in the world, I know that,” I say with effort. “She sometimes does stuff that’s not…not great. And it’s worse for Alice than me. But crack is a bitch and she doesn’t _mean_ it, not really…”

“It’s okay,” Esme says gently. “You don’t have to explain. She’s your mom and you love her, and that’s perfectly natural.”

I kick my feet. “I just feel like my whole life is being picked apart by people who don’t understand, and all of a sudden everyone is judging that nothing in my life is good enough. My Momma is too fucked up and my home is too shitty and I’m too stupid…” My words choke off.

“Oh Emmett,” Esme says compassionately. “I’m sorry you’re feeling like that…no one is judging in a mean spirited way. Carlisle and Mara and I truly just want to help make things better. If I’m judging anything, it’s the system that has repeatedly let you down. You should never have had to live with the abuse from your stepfather, and you should have been given extra help at school years ago, and it’s the people in charge who should have seen what was going on and acted on it. Your mother…I feel bad that she’s having such a tough time right now. But I also know that she must have done something right for you to love her the way you do, and for you and Alice to be such good kids.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I suppose the system, whatever that is, _did_ let me down if it could have saved me from Christian back then. But I survived and I’m fine, and Mark is practically Barney the friendly dinosaur compared to Christian so it’s not like I’m all that worse off now…

_But Alice is._

I can feel my teeth cutting into the skin over my knuckles. I don’t even want to think about it, I’ve tried so fucking hard to make it better for her, but the way things are isn’t okay for Alice. She doesn’t have Christian dragging her down to the basement, but she has Mark and Momma and I don’t even know what goes on there. Momma on crack changes everything.

_I’m sorry Monkey._

Almost like she’s heard my thoughts, I hear Alice’s rising cries from inside. She must have woken up, and she sounds panicked.

As soon as I get into the living room she pushes away Carlisle, who is trying to talk to her, and reaches towards me. I scoop her up and hug tight, feeling her skinny little body shuddering with her tears. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

“I didn’t know…what’s…you…Mommy didn’t come…I don’t know…”

I can hardly understand what she’s saying. “Shhhh, shhhh…come on Monkey. You’re okay, shhhh…”

Eventually her tears slow to a trickle of hiccupping sobs, and I sit down and tip her face out of my chest so I can look at her. “What is it?”

She blinks at me in bewilderment. “I didn’t know where I was…and I thought…is Mommy coming?”

Stress knifes through my stomach again. I’m going to get an ulcer if this keeps up. Did she just wake up and feel confused, or does she really not remember?

“We’re at Esme and Carlisle’s house. And Momma can’t come and visit us here, remember? But we’ll go and visit her soon,” I say as calmly as I can.

Alice leans back against me. “But what about home?”

“We’re going to stay here for a little while, instead of going home.” I watch her face, which looks tired and confused.

“But what about the hospital? Didn’t we stay at the hospital?” Alice’s thumb finds its way to her mouth.

“You stayed at the hospital for a couple of nights…” I look helplessly over at Carlisle, who has just reappeared with a bag. What the hell is going on?

“You stayed at the hospital while you were sick,” Carlisle confirms, kneeling in front of us and smiling at Alice. “You had a bad headache and tummy ache, so you stayed in hospital until you felt better, and then you came here so that Esme and I could help Emmett take care of you. Do you remember that?”

Alice nods. “You have a cat.”

“That’s right,” Carlisle says encouragingly. “Catkin. Now Alice, how is your head feeling right now?”

“Okay.”

“That’s great. Do you mind if I have a little look in your eyes?” Carlisle shows her a tiny penlight, and Alice obediently swivels on my lap to look at him. “That’s perfect…now can you follow my finger?” He moves it up and to the side, and then finishes by tweaking her nose, which makes her laugh. “Good girl. Now, I think you missed out on lunch while you were having a nap…are you hungry?”

“I can make you a sandwich,” Esme offers.

“Peanut butter and jelly?” Alice asks. She seems to have forgotten her tears, and she happily slides down off my lap and follows Esme to the kitchen.

I bite my knuckles and look at Carlisle. “What was all that about?”

He packs the penlight back into his bag. “I’m not sure, to be honest. She woke up crying, and didn’t seem to recognise where she was or what I was doing next to her.” He drums his fingers against the leather of his bag. “The nurses commented in the hospital that she had moments of similar disorientation. It’s not unusual after even a mild brain injury, and it’s nothing to panic about, although we do need to keep an eye on it. I think for the moment Alice needs a lot of rest and reassurance while we give her time to recover.”

“She’ll be all right in the end though, right? It’s not like it’s permanent damage…is it?”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” Carlisle says noncommittally. “The brain can be a tricky thing…and it’s not only that, Alice’s world has been turned upside down too. She needs time.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. She needs time…what the hell kind of answer is that?

Alice is happy enough for the moment though. She’s sitting up at the kitchen table eating a pb&j, with a glass of Esme’s juice in front of her, and she smiles at me winningly as I enter the room. “This juice has _four_ fruits in it,” she informs me. “ _And_ a secret vegetable…did you know you could have vegetables in juice?”

“It’s an amazing world we live in,” I say theatrically. “Four fruits _and_ a vegetable…who would have thought?”

Besides, maybe she can start drinking her vegetables, and I can let her stick to her preferred diet of peanut butter, crackers and pop tarts.

At that moment Edward walks in, looking a little surprised to see us all gathered in the kitchen. “Hello everyone,” he says, before he looks at Alice’s juice and adds, “Is there any of that left for me?”

“Sorry,” Esme says. “There’s some overripe bananas though – I can make you a milkshake? How was school?”

“A milkshake would be great thanks, and school was fine. I got my Latin translations back…got a 95, so not too bad.” Edward drops his bag and disappears into the pantry.

He got a 95? In Latin? Who learns LATIN? What the hell is wrong with the people in this house?

The noise of the blender covers anything else that might be said, and then I’m sitting down with a banana and coconut milk shake and sharing a bag of organic, stone ground corn chips and an apparently homemade salsa with Edward, the Latin genius.

“How was your day?” he asks.

He sounds kind of stiff and formal when he’s talking to me, but I have to appreciate that the guy tries. “Um…okay.”

“He’s not allowed to go to school anymore,” Alice tells Edward. “Because he was a fuck up and now he has to stay home with me!” She sounds delighted.

“Alice!” I say, feeling my ears go hot with embarrassment. Not because she told Edward I was suspended, but because of the words she used. She doesn’t swear that much, which is something of a miracle considering the language she hears constantly from Momma and Mark, and this is the last place I want her showing off her slightly age-inappropriate vocabulary!

“Oh.” Edward looks startled. “Well…that’s…um…”

He’s obviously groping desperately for something inoffensive to say, and for some reason this makes me laugh.

“Dude, it’s fine. I was suspended for cutting school, so it’s sadly only a temporary vacation.” I grin at him ruefully. “It’s not exactly your 95 on your Latin paper though, is it?”

Edward gives up and laughs. “Oh, Latin…who speaks Latin anyway? A vacation from school sounds a lot better.”

Carlisle cuffs him gently across the back of the head. “Don’t go getting any ideas. One person suspended in this family at a time please! And Emmett is going to be filling in his free hours very constructively, helping Esme around the house.”

He gives me a friendly grin, and it’s all sounds like something a normal sort of dad would say to his errant son and I don’t know how to deal with that. _One person suspended in this family at a time please!_ …We’re not a family. I bite my knuckles and half smile back, and hope someone changes the subject soon.

The phone rings and rescues me, as Carlisle picks it up and heads off towards his bedroom to talk. I finish my milkshake and throw the chip bag in the trash while Edward takes the glasses and puts them in the dishwasher. I surreptitiously watch to see where he places them- we don’t have a dishwasher at home and I don’t know how to pack dishes into them, but if I copy what he does I’ll be right.

“Can you show me how to play the piano?” Alice asks Edward. “I want to do the Disney songs.”

“Why not?” Edward closes the dishwasher. “We might have to work our way up to the Disney songs, but let’s see how we go.”

I follow them into the library. I don’t care if Edward thinks I’m all up his ass- until I’m sure he’s okay I’m going to keep an eye on them. I grab a notebook out of my schoolbag and sit down on one of the armchairs, beginning to write out the alphabet in a complex gothic style script on the first blank page I find. It might be odd, considering how much I hate spelling, but writing out the alphabet is one of the most relaxing things I know to do.

Alice is momentarily disappointed that she’s not going to be able to play a concert hall worthy version of her Disney favourites immediately, but Edward soon has her plinking away at something that resembles a tune.

“Emmett, listen!” she demands. “Listen to my song!”

Alice is more enthusiastic than musical, but I applaud at the end like she’s Beethoven anyway and she beams at me. A moment later she climbs down from the piano bench and disappears to the bathroom, and I look up and catch Edward’s eye. “Thanks for doing that for her.”

He plays a series of notes, listening to them thoughtfully. “I didn’t mind. She did well actually, especially considering that she has the smallest hands I’ve ever seen, and that makes it harder.”

“I’m sorry we’ve kind of come into your house and taken it over,” I say after a pause. “I know it must suck…we should be out of here soon.”

Edward shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. It’s what Carlisle and Esme do...I just live with it.” He laughs, “And you and Alice aren’t that bad.” Obviously getting uncomfortable with the seriousness of the conversation he closes the piano lid and stands up. “So…do you want to play some x-box?”

“Sure, why not?”

And, somehow, this weird Latin-learning-piano-freak starts to feel like a friend.

 


	13. Options

I don’t know why I would have expected anything different, but when the Cullens said that they were going to get me some testing for school they weren’t only making some vague suggestions. They weren’t making vague suggestions about doing some work around the house since I was suspended, either. These people take parenting seriously.

The next morning Esme hands me a bucket and a squeegee and sends me outside to wash the windows. Five minutes later, after seeing the results of my first window she follows me out and teaches me her technique, so I end up with windows that are actually pretty clean and streak-free. Alice, with a rag and a spray bottle of Windex in hand, follows me around on the inside of the house and cleans too, not because she’s in trouble but just because she’s never done it before and thinks it looks like fun.

I don’t mind the cleaning. It’s not like I have anything better to do, and it’s pretty funny watching Alice, on the other side of the glass, jump and laugh hysterically every time I throw water at her. But having an adult assign chores to me feels weird and kind of unsettling. It’s not like this at home. And the fact that the chores are a kind of punishment for being suspended feels even weirder…my grandma used to spank and sit me on the naughty chair, and getting in trouble with Momma always involved a lot of yelling and/or hitting. Esme’s calm and quiet suggestion that I can do something useful with my time and think about my future while I do it is a novel approach.

Plus, when I’m finished with the windows there are cookies.

Then late afternoon, Esme comes into the living room where I’m sitting on the sofa drawing, with Alice sitting beside me introducing her princess dolls to Catkin. I’m listening to Edward play the same section of piano music over and over again, and wondering at what point I’m going to crack and smash the piano lid down on his fingers.

“We’ve arranged for you to do some assessments at Camden tomorrow,” Esme announces.

“What? Why am I doing it there? That’s not my school.”

“I know. But the wait for an appointment with an educational psychologist through your school could be months, and if you want to stay on track to graduate with your class you can’t really afford to wait that long.” Esme says practically. “We can do it privately through Camden’s people right away though, and take the results to your school to figure out where we go from here. Unless…” she hesitates.

“What?”

“This is just an option for you to think about,” Esme says earnestly. “No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, and we completely understand that right now there is so much upheaval in your life that it’s probably a bad time to even think about adding more changes. But, it’s an option.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. “What’s an option?”

“Camden is a charter school, and it’s very well-funded and well equipped. Edward has attended since kindergarten, and I’m on the board now so we’re pretty familiar with the school. They have excellent teachers, great programs and a lot of student support built in. They also have a scholarship fund that covers up to 100% of tuition…and you would qualify for it, if you wanted to apply.” Esme smiles at me.

“What…go to that school? Are you _joking_?” I laugh in disbelief. Go to the fancy private school that Edward goes to? There’s no way!

Esme nods. “I’m serious…it could be arranged. The scholarship fund covers the cost, and it’s only a little further than the high school from your house so when you go home you could still walk there. Camden has a good art program that I think you’d enjoy, and academically they would give you a good chance to improve your grades and graduate.” She pauses. “We’re not telling you what to do at all. If you want to stay where you are, we’re more than happy to help you work with the administration at your school to get you the help you’re entitled to. But Carlisle and I have talked to your principal, and I have to be honest that it may take more time and effort to get things set up there.”

“But I can’t…what about my mom? What would she say?”

“Oh, we’re not trying to do anything behind Maddie’s back!” Esme says hurriedly “We’ve talked to Mara, and she’s going to talk to your mom. You should talk to her too. Carlisle and I can sign the enrolment forms and things for you now if you want to do it, but you should absolutely involve your mom in your decision if you want to.”

I run a hand through my hair. “It’s not something I’ve ever thought about,” I admit.

“That’s okay. Tomorrow you’ll go to Camden for your assessment, and that will give you a chance to take a look around and see what you think. You should call your mom and talk to her too, and Carlisle and I are both happy to talk to her about the school if she has any questions. As I said, no pressure…just give it a bit of thought.”

It’s hard to know what to think. I’ve only ever thought about _leaving_ school, never about going to a different one. I don’t know a lot about Camden either. Despite what Esme said, I find it hard to believe that any school would accept me as a student if they didn’t have to, let alone offer scholarship money to allow me to go.

I’m not sure about talking it over with Momma, but when I call her that evening I bring it up right after we say hello.

“Did you talk to Mara?” I ask. “About school…you know I got suspended?”

“Yeah. What was it? You been fighting again?”

“Momma, I haven’t been in a fight for years!” I say indignantly. “I don’t do that anymore. It was just cutting school and the principal being a dick. Although to be fair to the man I’ve been giving him a headache for a while; not on purpose, but I guess I can’t blame him for being sick of me.”

“You shouldn’t cut school,” Momma says. “Not so much that they suspend you anyway. If this means that they send a truant officer round home to get on my case I’ll skin you alive.” There’s no heat in her tone though, and her voice has the slightly slower cadence that happens when she drinks.

“I don’t think they’ll let me get away with it here,” I say lightly. “The Cullens seem pretty keen on school…they’re even making me do some tests to see if there’s a reason I’m such a dumbass.”

“I was never any good at school. Just didn’t give a shit…I only went to hang out with the boys,” Momma laughs a little. “Ended up with you instead of a diploma.”

“What a shitty deal,” I say, and Momma laughs again.

“Nah, you’re okay. Don’t you go getting anyone knocked up though Em!”

“Not much chance of that happening,” I say cheerfully, adding, “But part of all this testing – they’re saying I should think about switching schools to the charter school over on Harwood Street, the one near Taco Bell.”

“I’m not paying fucking charter school fees!” Momma exclaims.

“You wouldn’t have to,” I say quickly. “There’s financial aid.”

“Oh yeah, Mara was talking about the school thing, now I remember…talk about a fucking know-it-all, does that woman ever shut up? But yeah, she said that you could go to a better school and they might be able to do some tutoring or something. I dunno Em, do you want to go to some fancy school?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Not really…but at the moment it looks like I won’t even be able to graduate if I don’t do something. Do you remember if they ever tested me for anything when I was little, because I couldn’t read for so long?”

“Yeah, a few of your teachers had a real bee in their bonnet about you and why you couldn’t read. Your grandma used to talk to them more than I did…I just figured you were slow. Your dad was dumb as a box of rocks, I just thought you took after him,” Momma says matter-of-factly.

“So you don’t remember any assessments or anything like that?”

“There might have been, I dunno. You went to some special group at school for a while, for reading…you used to talk about it some. They said at the school that you had ADHD too, but that was after your grandma died and Christian was around then – he didn’t believe in that crap and he knocked you into shape. You still kept flunking, but at least you behaved yourself.”

_So that’s how you think of it? “Knocking me in to shape?”_

“So you don’t think I should bother with this new school then?” I ask. “I mean if I’ve always been hopeless it seems kind of pointless.”

I feel surprisingly deflated. It wasn’t that I wanted to go to the charter school exactly, but having Momma basically reinforce that I’ve always been stupid and probably inherited idiocy from my deadbeat dad makes it seem totally ludicrous to be even considering it. I really _am_ stupid for even thinking I could do something better.

“It could be okay?” Momma says doubtfully. “People pay a lot of money for this school, so it’s gotta be good. And I’d like to see you graduate Em, since I never did. It’d be great to have someone with a diploma in the family.”

“Yeah?” My throat feels tight. This momma I’m talking to, who’s not fucked up on crack, who is listening to me…I miss this.

“Yeah….I mean, why the hell not?” Momma says animatedly. “Fuck it Em, having them take you and the kid away fucking sucks, but…like…maybe it’s gonna work out? They’re gonna make me go to AA or some shit like that, and do some fucking class…and like, I know I’ve been partying a bit too much and took it a bit far…but maybe I can ease off a bit? Mark isn’t coming back, so it’s gonna be easier to keep it on the straight and narrow – well, you know, not totally but…I’ll give it a try. And you could go to this fancy school and graduate and do something good with your life? I dunno…but you think that maybe it could happen? You guys’ll be home soon, and maybe we can make it better?”

She’s let me down so often, but even so I can’t help but hope. Maybe this time it _can_ be different? Maybe this situation, as messed up and awful as it has been, is the push that Momma needed to get it together. If she goes to rehab, if Mark is out of the picture, if she really tries…it’s possible. _It’s possible._

Maybe.

__________________________________________________

Esme drives me to Camden, with Alice strapped into the safety pod in the back seat. “Now don’t be nervous,” she says. “There’s no pressure, it’s just to see how you’re doing. Here’s a water bottle and a snack, and once the testing is done Edward is going to meet you and give you a quick tour and take you to lunch in the cafeteria. Alice and I are going to do a little bit of work at the church pantry while you’re doing that, and we’ll be here to pick you up when you’re done. Okay?”

She sounds a lot more nervous than I am. While I’m not excited by the impending test taking, I’m not all that bothered by it either. After all, I’ve been failing tests since kindergarten so it’s hardly anything new – why worry about it?

Camden Charter School is a K-12 school and the buildings and grounds spread over most of a block. Everything looks neat and well kept, although it feels funny to be sixteen and walking into a school playground with swings and a jungle gym. Esme tells me that the elementary, middle and high school areas are separated, although they share facilities like the library, the theatre, the pool and gym. In the distance I can see a class playing on a baseball diamond, and I watch for a moment before following Esme to the administration building.

They sit me down in a small room off the library to do the testing. Some of it’s easy. A lot of it’s hard. But the woman testing me doesn’t seem horrified by all the things I don’t know how to do and keeps it moving. Someone else comes in after a while and they trade, so the new one goes through a bunch of other assessments, but eventually she gathers up all her papers and tells me I’m done.

Thank goodness. I was starting to feel like _my_ brain might start bleeding if this didn’t end soon.

Edward is waiting in the library, leaning against a table and flipping through a book. When he sees me coming over he slips it back onto a shelf and stands up. “How was it?” he asks.

I shrug. “Okay.”

“I’m supposed to show you around,” Edward says. “As you’ll notice, this is a library.”

I laugh and keep pace with him as he heads off. “So level with me…is this school any good? Do you like it?”

Edward considers. “I do like it here. The programs and the teachers are good, and depending on your interests there are a lot of opportunities. The other students are…well, they’re probably like kids anywhere really.”

“Except with a lot more money,” I say, as we pass banks of shiny lockers and glass doors that show bright, clean, well-equipped classrooms. There’s no graffiti anywhere, and posters and fliers are tidily contained on corkboards only.

“Some of the parents are really wealthy and there are some pretty substantial alumni bequests,” Edward says candidly. “But there’s also a lot of families that sacrifice a lot to have their kids here; and there’s a scholarship fund that covers a few.” He blushes a little. “You wouldn’t be too…noticeable, in that sense.”

Maybe _he_ doesn’t notice, but I bet that there are others that will. Trust me, there are kids that can spot my Walmart jeans and crummy unbranded sneakers from a mile away, and that’s before free lunches and never having any supplies. I’ve long ago learned not to care, but that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of it.

I have to admit that the school is pretty amazing. They’ve got their own gym and pool, as well as outdoor fields for baseball and football and track. They’ve got a theatre, and the art department has facilities for things like ceramics and metalwork and textiles as well as the regular drawing and painting. Even the cafeteria, when we get to it, is bright and clean and the food is better than anything I’ve ever been served at my school.

I load up a tray that Edward pays for, and then the two of us sit down to eat at an empty table. I check out the other guys sitting around us as I eat – a lot of them are dressed kind of preppy, like Edward, in khakis and polos or button down shirts, but there are enough people in jeans that I don’t feel too out of place. Not because of my clothes, anyway.

“What do you think?” Edward asks.

“It’s kind of impressive,” I admit. “But I don’t know if it’s really for me…school’s not exactly my thing. Although Esme and Carlisle seem pretty keen for me to try it out, and even my mom thought it could be a good idea.” Remembering my momma talking about school and rehab and home makes me feel warm. _It’s going to get better._

“What about your friends?”

I shrug. I used to have a lot of good friends, but that kind of fell by the wayside as my life started to fall apart. I have to watch out for Alice after school now, and I can’t have people home, not when Momma and Mark are doing what they’re doing. It’s just become easier to keep people at a distance.

“Anyway, they might not even take me,” I say, finishing up my lunch. “God knows what kind of mess I made of those tests this morning! Probably don’t want me dragging down their averages.”

I’m surprised to realise that this bothers me. I’m so used to being a fuckup I didn’t think I’d care, but this feels different. Maybe because, when Esme suggested I think about coming here and getting enough credits to graduate, it was the first time in a long time that anyone has believed I could be something other than a loser, and I don’t want to give that up.


	14. Another Word for Stupid?

Once lunch is done Edward has to hurry off to class, so he points me in the direction of the front gate and I make my own way there. Esme and Alice are already parked there, waiting.

“Hey Monkey, hi Esme,” I say, sliding into the front seat.

“Look, I got shoes!” Alice sticks her feet towards me, waggling them in a pair of pink boots with purple fur around the tops. “I helped Esme do the food boxes at the church, just like we get, and then I helped find baby clothes for a lady who is going to have a baby. And Esme said I did a good job and could have these shoes because I don’t have any boots. Aren’t they pretty?”

“Beautiful! I wish they had them in my size,” I say, and Alice giggles.

“You are so silly.”

Esme smiles at me. “She really was a big help. And I made sure to keep her fairly quiet. How did you go?”

“I have no idea,” I admit cheerfully. “Probably pretty badly! But Edward showed me round a bit and I ate lunch, so it’s all good.”

“What did you think of the school?”

“It’s really nice…they’ve got everything.” I shrug a little self-consciously. “I talked to my mom and she said it might be good. I mean, people pay a lot of money to send their kids there and they’ll let me go for free so it seems kind of stupid not to go.”

Esme laughs. “Your mom is right that it’s a good opportunity. I’m glad she likes the idea too. I didn’t want her to think that we were trying to do anything behind her back in regards to you and school, it’s just that it seems to have come to a head now and it makes sense to deal with it.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass,” I mumble.

“That’s not what I meant at all, so don’t even give it another thought,” Esme says. “I keep telling you that we are enjoying having you and Alice around, so you just need to believe me!”

Behind me, Alice is gazing adoringly at Esme from her carseat. If Esme is enjoying having her around, I don’t think it’s a patch on how much Alice is enjoying having Esme’s attention.

“Esme likes us staying at her house,” she tells me firmly, and who am I to argue with the voice of decision?

Since Alice seems to know so much, I twist around in my seat so I can look at her. “What do you think about school Monkey? Should I change schools?”

“To that school? Where Edward goes?”

“Yeah.”

“You could learn to play the piano there, like Edward,” Alice says thoughtfully.

I snort. “I’m not going to learn the piano.”

“Maybe I can learn the piano instead?” she suggests.

“You didn’t answer my question about school,” I say, skipping her question. Piano lessons are for the Edwards of the world, not for us. “Do I change school or not?”

“Yes,” Alice says decisively. “That school has a better playground.”

Her logic can’t be faulted, and I wink at her and turn away. What the hell. Let’s do this.

______________________________________________________

“Let’s do this _tomorrow_?” I drop my fork and stare across the table at Esme. “ _Seriously?_ ”

“Yes. Your assessments have been scored and the educational psychologist wants to meet with you. We’ve spoken with the principal and administrators about enrolling you through the scholarship scheme, and there’s no reason why we can’t organise everything at a team meeting tomorrow after school. You’d be able to start on Monday.” Esme smiles at me serenely, and eats another bite of dinner.

I look at my plate of vegetable frittata and Turkish flat bread and shake my head. Is this what being rich is? Being able to make everything work out exactly the way you want it to, exactly when you want it? Is that what it takes?

Even Edward looks a little surprised. “That’s fast.”

“That’s crazy!” I say with feeling.

“It makes sense to move forward as soon as possible. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you, so the sooner you start the more time you’ll have to do it.” Esme looks at me a little anxiously. “Of course if you’re not ready, or if you’ve changed your mind, we can talk about it. It’s a big step.”

I shake my head. “I haven’t changed my mind. I still think I should do it, but I guess I wasn’t quite expecting it to be so soon.”

Carlisle is working late at the hospital, so it’s just Esme, Edward, Alice and I sitting around the dinner table. I’m on my second helping, and Alice is carefully dissecting her frittata so that she can avoid as many vegetables as humanly possible. She’s eaten maybe a teaspoon worth of egg.

“Do I have to go to that new school with Emmett?” she asks suddenly, putting down her fork. “There were little kids on the playground, I saw them. Do they have first grade?”

“They do have first grade,” Esme answers her. “But for now you’ll keep going to your regular school. I talked to Miss Caspar and she said that she misses you in the classroom and hopes you come back soon! We want to make sure you’re completely well again though, so Carlisle and the other doctors thought you should stay home with me for another week.”

Alice is happy with that, and between bites of bread she tells Esme about how much she loves her teacher and what she thinks about her school. I keep my head down and clear my plate, even though I don’t really feel hungry any more. I know that Esme’s right – why wait? – but that doesn’t mean it isn’t scaring the shit out of me.

I’m quiet the rest of the night, and excuse myself to go to bed early. Alice, who was tucked into bed with a story and a kiss from Esme half an hour ago, must hear me cleaning my teeth because when I go to my room she’s already there.

Lying in bed under the butterfly quilt she’s dragged from her room, with her thumb in her mouth and her bunny in the other hand she smiles at me sleepily. “I don’t want to sleep by myself.”

“Okay.” I know we’ll have to get her sleeping in her own bed again soon, but right now I don’t care if she would rather be with me. I would probably never admit aloud that the truth is I want her there…it’s easier for me to sleep when she’s got her feet jammed into my back and I know that she’s safe.

Before I get into bed, I slip my hand down inside the drawer and check that the food is still there. I haven’t had to eat any of it - Esme is telling the truth when she says that there is always food in the fridge and pantry and I can help myself whenever I want – but I still need to know it’s there.

I’m getting used to the bed here in the Cullens’ spare room, but I can’t get used to the quietness, with no tv on in the background. I stare at the ceiling, listening to the slight slurping noise of Alice sucking her thumb, waiting for the tight knot of tension in my belly to unwind and let me relax.

“What do you think Mommy is doing?” she asks into the dimness.

“Maybe she’s in bed too?” I offer.

Alice digs in a little closer to my side. “I think she’s having fun with her friends.”

_Let’s hope not._

“We’ll try again tomorrow to call her on the phone,” I say. I’d tried after dinner and again just before bed, but there hadn’t been any answer. “And Mara will arrange a visit soon.”

“But not here,” Alice clarifies. “Mommy won’t come here. Esme is the mommy in this house.”

Something about the way Alice says that makes me uneasy. “Sort of…she’s Edward’s mom.”

“But it’s _like_ she’s my mommy too when I’m here,” Alice insists. “She does the mom things, like getting me new boots and doing my hair. So it’s _kind of_ like she’s my mommy too.”

“Yeah,” I say slowly. “She does the mom things for us here, but it’s only until we can go home to our mom. I’m glad that you like Esme looking after you, but we have our mom and our home and we’ll go back there soon.”

“Oh, I know,” Alice says, patting my face. “This is just for a little while.”

She falls asleep soon after, but I toss and turn, eventually giving up and going to the bathroom for a glass of water. Edward is just coming out, wearing pyjamas and smelling like toothpaste.

“Whoa…I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Sorry.” I move out of his way. “I just can’t sleep…it’s so quiet! I’m used to having the tv on.” I go into the bathroom, and this time I’m the one who jumps when I open the door again and find Edward on the other side of it.

“Sorry!” he says, holding up a cd player and a handful of cds like a peace offering. “I just thought, if it’s too quiet for you…I don’t exactly have a tv, but you can have this, if music will help…I didn’t know what you’d like so I just grabbed a bunch of different stuff.”

It’s too dark in the hallway to see it, but I know he’s blushing. Without waiting for an answer, he shoves everything into my hands and turns away, heading quickly for his room.

“Thanks…” I say, too late as I hear the click of his door. I stand for another moment, stunned by this sudden act of kindness. Not that Edward has ever been anything but unfailingly formal and polite, but this is…this is kind, and personal, and it feels like a friend.

And it _does_ help. I don’t recognise most of the cds he’s given me and so I choose something at random, that ends up being mostly deep voiced guys and raspy girls with acoustic guitars that I’d probably never have picked in a million years. But it’s noise, and it gives me something to listen to as I relax and drift towards sleep, and the last thought I remember having is that it’s really not a bad cd after all.

__________________________________________________

The meeting at Camden is scheduled to take place after the regular school day. Esme drives Alice and I over, Carlisle meets us there from the hospital, and then while we’re sitting in the foyer waiting, Edward walks in too.

Seriously? _Everyone_ is coming to this?

Edward must see the face I make, because he laughs self-consciously. “I thought Alice might like to do something with me while you’re all busy,” he says a little stiffly. “I can take you to the music room Alice, and you can try some of the instruments if you want. Or we could go to the playground.”

Alice jumps up from the seat beside me. “Is there drums?” She keeps hold of the hospital giftbag that she’s brought with her, with markers and paper and colouring books meant to keep her occupied during the meeting. “Or is there one of those twirly trumpets? Can I go Emmett?”

I glance over at Esme, who nods encouragingly and says, “That’s a great idea Edward, thank you. Have fun Alice, and we’ll be just in the conference room if you need us.”

I can’t help wishing that I was going with Alice to play the drums and climb on the playground rather than trailing Esme and Carlisle into the small conference room. This all feels horribly formal, even though everyone else is smiling and shaking hands and introducing themselves.

I’m introduced to the principal, Mrs Lane. There’s also one of the women who did the testing, Ms Johansson from the school’s special ed program, Mr O’Brian, the coordinator of the eleventh grade, and Mr Rhys from the guidance department. I shake hands and mumble hello and hope that no one notices that my knuckles have been chewed raw.

“Okay Emmett…welcome to Camden,” Mrs Lane nods at me. “We’re happy to have you, and we hope you enjoy your time here. We also hope you’re ready to work hard and make use of the opportunities you’ll find.”

“Um..yeah, thank you ma’am.”

“Esme and Carlisle, you’ll have to fill out the paperwork…you’re legally Emmett’s guardians for this?” Mrs Lane waits for them to nod then passes a large envelope to them. “It’s all in there. It’s the same as the paperwork you’ve already filled out for Edward, but we will need copies of any court orders for custody and releases of information too for Emmett’s situation. Now, we’ve got all the results of the assessments…Laura, do you want to take over here?”

The educational psychologist shuffles her papers. “Emmett, it was really nice to meet you. I enjoyed getting to know you a little bit, and I think we’ve found out a few reasons you’ve been struggling and a few ways we’re going to be able to help you.” She smiles. “First of all, you’re a smart kid. I’m guessing you don’t hear that a lot, but it’s true.”

“Smart mouth, maybe,” I say lightly, and she laughs.

“Well, maybe that too! But you’re bright, and definitely have a lot of potential. You also have dyslexia…have you heard of that?”

I shake my head.

“Dyslexia is a learning disability relating to the brain’s ability to process words. People with dyslexia can have a lot of trouble with reading and writing related tasks…sound familiar?”

Chewing my knuckles, I nod. Of course I’m hopeless at reading and writing, isn’t that why we’re all here?

“Dyslexia has nothing to do with intelligence,” Laura goes on. “Many people with dyslexia are highly intelligent, and might have excellent problem solving skills, be great analytical thinkers, or extremely creative. We don’t really know what causes it, but we do know that it tends to run in families and is more common in boys.”

“So what does that mean for Emmett now?” Carlisle wants to know.

“There’s no cure for dyslexia,” Laura says. “We can’t change the way Emmett’s brain works to process language. What we _can_ do is work with him in structured, individualised ways to maximise his abilities. There is a lot of research into the way dyslexic students learn best, and teachers have a lot of strategies and educational approaches that they can try to help Emmett learn. This diagnosis doesn’t mean that your potential and future is limited” She looks across at me. “Is this making sense? Do you want to ask anything?”

“So you’ve got this word for it, but basically I’m still stupid,” I say sceptically.

Laura shakes her head. “Absolutely not. Having dyslexia is no reflection on how intelligent someone is, and despite your troubles with reading and writing the testing shows that you’re actually pretty bright. It’s true, Emmett. You’ve got a good brain that has a bit of a glitch in one area…and despite that, you’ve learned to read and write and made it to the eleventh grade without any help targeted to your learning disability, and that’s pretty impressive.”

“Does this influence Emmett’s enrolment here at Camden?” Esme asks.

Ms Lane shakes her head. “No, we’re still more than happy to accept him and I think we can offer him the help he needs to achieve success. With a diagnosed special need he’ll have an individual learning plan and accommodations can be made in his classes if he requires them, as well as regular sessions in the resource room.”

“That’s where I come in. Emmett, I’m Mrs Johansson and I’m the coordinator of our special education program. The resource room is one way we support our special needs students – it’s a place where you can receive instruction on the level that you’re at, as well as get any assistance you might need to succeed in your regular classes.”

“We’ve put together a tentative schedule for Emmett that gives him a period in the resource room each day,” Mr O’Brian, the eleventh grade coordination pushes a pencilled in timetable and a stapled booklet across to me. “You’ll need to have a look at this and choose some elective subjects, to go along with the compulsory ones.”

Am I supposed to read this whole book and decide this _now?_ I look at the schedule and try not to panic, but I guess Carlisle must see through me a bit because he takes the booklet of electives from the table and flips it open.

“Let’s have a look at this,” he says quietly. “Should we start out with the art options? I think they would interest you…”

Grateful for his thoughtfulness I nod, and listen carefully as he starts reading out the class descriptions, trying to imagine me doing any of them. Is this really going to be my life?


	15. Hands

The weekend at the Cullens’ house feels interminable. Usually at home I’d spend most of my weekend hiding out in my room watching tv and drawing, keeping Alice out of the way when necessary, and dealing with Momma the rest of the time. Here at the Cullens I don’t have a tv in my room, and I don’t feel comfortable commandeering the set in the living room so I can watch cartoons for twelve hours a day.

Besides, Alice is still supposed to be taking it easy and has completely taken over their Netflix account in an attempt to watch the entire Disney filmography. I like dogs as much as the next person, but there are only so many movies I can watch about golden retriever puppies and their whacky adventures.

I can’t reach Momma either. Her phone goes to message bank every time I call, and when she finally answers me late on Sunday night I don’t know whether I’m more relieved that she’s okay or angry that she didn’t bother answering all weekend.

“Momma, I’ve been trying to call you all weekend.”

“I’ve been at Nat’s, and I guess I didn’t look at the phone…you know how it is.”

 _Oh yeah, I know how it is._ Momma’s friend Nat is the one who introduced her to Mark, and combining that with Momma’s slow, hoarse voice…I know _exactly_ how it is.

I bite my knuckles so hard that I split open a previous scab and my mouth is suddenly filled with the coppery taste of blood. Tears sting my eyes as I wrap the hem of my t-shirt around my hand. _Goddamn it…_

“Momma, you need to be careful. You know you have to go to rehab and stuff before Alice and I can come home, and they’re going to drug test you,” I say, trying to keep the accusation out of my voice.

“Oh, I’m going to do all that Em, I promise…it was just Nat’s friend’s birthday so there was a party…and you know, I’m on my own here, with you and Alice gone and Mark’s still locked up, so…” Momma rambles on.

I’m in the Cullens’ library and, unable to sit still, I get up and pace around the piano. “I understand all that, but this is really important Momma…please try.”

“I told you, I’m going to do all that. I even have a list of rehab programs right here, I just have to choose one; and that parenting class that I have to take starts in a couple of weeks. It’s fine Em, promise.”

I drop into an armchair and lay my head back with a sigh. “Okay.”

“Is Alice there? Isn’t she going to say hi?” Momma asks.

“She’s asleep. They think she should have a regular bedtime and she’s been extra tired because of her brain, so she’s been going to bed early.”

Actually, I doubt Alice is asleep. She likes Carlisle and Esme’s bedtime routine here, with stories read to her in bed and kisses and tucking in, but she never stays in that bed. I’m betting she’s still awake, waiting for me to come in before she goes to sleep. But I’m tired and kind of preoccupied with my anxiety about school tomorrow, and I just don’t feel up to running interference between Momma and Alice if the phone calls goes bad.

“I’m starting at Camden tomorrow,” I tell her. “My new school…I’m kind of nervous.”

“You’ll do great.” I hear her yawning. “You’ll make some new friends, have some fun, it’ll be fine.”

Her voice fades out, and I know that she’s starting to fall asleep and I’ll get nothing more now.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be great,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll call you tomorrow okay? Earlier, so Alice can talk to you too. I’ll tell you about how my first day goes.”

Momma mumbles something, and then the phone disconnects. I close my eyes, pressing my teeth into my knuckles until the pain of that blots out every other thought.

“Emmett.” It’s Carlisle, coming quietly into the room and standing beside me. “I was wondering if you’d let me take a look at your hands?”

Wearily I open my eyes. “Sure, if you want.”

He pulls up a footstool and sits beside me. His hands are cool and gentle as he takes mine, tilting them up so he can look at my knuckles.

I want to pull them away. My hands are a mess, the skin over my knuckles red and cracked and raw, all because I can’t keep them out of my mouth. It’s a stupid, embarrassing habit that I can’t break, although it’s never been as bad as it right now.

“It looks like it hurts,” Carlisle comments softly.

I shrug. “It’s not that bad.” I mean, I _suppose_ it could be worse?

“If it’s okay with you, I think I should clean and then tape your knuckles. I’m a little concerned that some of the deeper cracks are starting an infection.” He looks at me a little apologetically. “The human mouth has a surprising amount of bacteria in it.”

And just when I think I can’t feel like more of a mess in front of these people…it gets worse.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I know it’s gross, I just can’t…can’t seem to stop doing it. I’ve always done it, ever since…” My voice fades away for a moment as the memories take shape in my mind. “Christian – my stepfather – when he was belting me he always told me if I cried it would be worse so I’d bite down on my hand so I wouldn’t make any noise. Not that it worked…he didn’t stop til I cried anyway, so I’ve got no idea damn idea what he wanted.”

Carlisle is nodding thoughtfully. “I can see how it’s developed as a subconscious coping mechanism. You started biting your hand in one stressful situation, and now it happens in other situations where you feel stressed.” He smiles kind of sadly. “You’re dealing with a lot right now.”

“It’s all good,” I say lightly, trying to sound casual.

Carlisle shakes his head with a half laugh. “Your hands tell a little bit of a different story. And that’s okay, Emmett. Now don’t go anywhere, I’ll just get the first aid kit.”

While he’s gone I look down at my hands. I’ve never put it together before. I know that I bite my knuckles when I’m scared and anxious, but I’ve never put it together with the fact that I started doing it when Christian had me feeling so terrified and hurting.

Carlisle come back and takes my hands, wiping them over with an antibacterial wipe that stings on the broken skin. He rubs on some cream, cold and soothing, and then starts taping over my knuckles.

“I’m glad you told us about Christian,” he says as he works. “He should never have abused you, and he should never have a chance to hurt another child. Alice going into his custody could have gone very badly for her.”

“He was a sadistic fuck,” I say flatly. “I mean, Momma hits, and Mark and some of her other boyfriends have knocked me round some, but Christian…he enjoyed it.” I remember the basement, and his belt, and suppress a shudder. “I hate talking about him.”

“You don’t have to,” Carlisle says. “But if you want to talk about that time, or talk about anything, Esme and I are always ready to listen. If you would rather talk to someone else instead, there’s counselling available at school or through family services.”

He finishes taping my hands, and I look at the result and shake my head. “It looks like I’ve been bare knuckle fighting.”

Carlisle laughs. “It does a little bit,” he admits. “But it will give your skin a little space to heal. If you can leave the tape on that would be good, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to start school looking like a prize fighter. If you decide to take it off for school I’ll do it again tomorrow night.”

“Thanks,” I say, and even if he doesn’t know it I’m thanking him for more than just the action of bandaging my hands.

______________________________________________________

I wake up the next morning with Alice’s bare feet in my face and the rest of her buried under the quilt she’s stolen from me. I breathe a momentary breath of relief that she hasn’t wet the bed, before I reluctantly peel myself off it and start my day.

Esme serves me up a plate of bacon and eggs for breakfast. “To give you strength for your first day,” she says cheerfully, although no matter how much I appreciate it I’m too nervous to eat more than half.

“Are you all organised?” Carlisle asks, eating his own breakfast opposite me.

“I think I’m all set,” I say. “Esme helped me sort out my binder and notebooks and junk. I have to go to the office first thing and they’ll give me my locker assignment and lunch card.”

“Do you know where you’re going? Edward can make sure you get there if you’re not certain,” Esme offers.

“I’m not in kindergarten. We were just there on Friday, I can probably manage,” I say, and see Edward’s lips twitch into a grin.

Esme blushes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t fuss so much...I just want things to go smoothly so that you have a good day!”

“She was like this on my first day too,” Edward says teasingly. “Weren’t you, Mom? I had to convince her not to walk me in holding my hand.”

“It’s a mother’s job to worry,” Esme says cheerfully, swiping the last piece of bacon off Carlisle’s plate.

Huh. A mother’s job…of all the things my mother does, I’m not sure that _worry about me_ is one of them. But I don’t want to think about Momma this morning, and I push the thought firmly away and go back to my room.

I wake Alice up when I get my sneakers. I’m tempted to leave her sleeping so peacefully, but I don’t want her to wake up and find me gone and freak out. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Wake up Monkey. I have to go to school, and I want to say goodbye.” I prod the blankets and then tickle the bottom of her bare foot, and she squeaks and sits up.

“Is it school time?”

“Just for me,” I say, tying my laces. “You get to stay home and keep Esme company. Maybe you could bake me some more cupcakes?”

“Why do you have to go to school?” Alice whines. “You didn’t have to go last week. I want you to stay with me.”

“I have to go to school. It’s the law,” I say.

“But what if Momma comes to take me home and you’re not here?”

I look at her red, cross face and try and sound patient. “She won’t. She’s not allowed to anyway. Come on Monkey, it’ll be just like last week; Esme will read with you and you can watch Netflix and draw and play with your toys. I’ll just be at school until I come back in the afternoon.”

Alice crawls over to me. “But what if I get sick again? Or what if I wet the bed and someone yells at me and you’re not here?”

“You’re already awake and you didn’t wet the bed,” I point out, scooping her into my arms and gently slapping her butt. “See…dry pants!”

She giggles a little, and I hug her and kiss her forehead. “You’re going to be fine,” I tell her. “You won’t get sick again. Esme is going to be watching you, and has she yelled at you yet?” Alice shakes her head and I go on. “So, just do what you’re told and it’ll be fine. It’s only school; I’ll be home again before you know it.”

But Alice won’t let go of my neck, and so I pick up my backpack with my free hand and lug her out to the kitchen.

“Good morning Alice, do you want some breakfast?” Esme asks.

Alice scowls at her, her fingers digging into me as she clings on like a koala. “Emmett has to stay home with me.”

“I told you, I have to go to school.” I try and pull her off me, swearing as one of her fingernails scratches across my neck as she desperately tries to grip on. “Alice!”

She lets go of me, crying as I plunk her in a kitchen chair that she promptly slithers off, ending up weeping under the table. I look helplessly at Esme.

“Just go and keep getting ready,” Esme whispers to me, “I’ll see what I can do with her.”

I pour myself a drink of milk, listening as Esme crouches down by the table and says to Alice, ignoring her tears, “What would you like for breakfast? There’s some bacon and eggs, or some oatmeal, or toast.”

“Pop tarts,” Alice sobs. “I want pop tarts…you don’t have anything good!”

Fed up, I slam down the glass and grab Alice’s arm, yanking hard enough to drag her out from under the table. “You mind your manners! Esme’s being nice to you and you have to behave yourself!”

_Sweet hell Monkey, don’t make them mad…just shut up and stop being a brat, or god knows what will happen then!_

Alice is now howling and trying to hit me, and it’s all just devolved into a complete shitshow.

“You don’t care! You’re just going to school and you don’t care and there’s no pop tarts and I hate you!” Alice screams in my face. “I’ll be all by myself and you…don’t…even…CARE!”

“I care!” I roar back at her. “I always care!”

Alice’s screams lapse into sobs, and she clings to me as I wrap my arms around her, and wish I didn’t have to let her go. _I don’t want to leave you Monkey…I’d rather stay here with you and make sure you’re safe._

Suddenly Esme wraps her arms around both of us, holding tight as she kisses Alice’s temple, and it’s such a weird thing to not feel alone that I don’t know how to react.

“We don’t have any pop tarts sweetheart, but maybe you could have some toast with strawberry jelly instead?” Esme suggests. “And later on we could make some cookies to have when Emmett comes home from school?”

“But I don’t want Emmett to go to school,” Alice says pitifully.

“I know sweetie,” Esme says, somehow managing to gently extract Alice from my arms and transfer her into hers. “But Emmett has to go to school, and next week you’ll go back to school too!” She kisses Alice’s forehead again, and she rests her head against Esme’s shoulder. “I thought you might be lonely at home without Emmett today, so I sent Edward up into the attic to find something special for us to play with.”

Alice looks mildly interested, and that’s good enough. I wipe my hands across her cheeks to dry her tears and lower my head to bump my forehead against hers. “Okay? Some jelly on toast will be yum, and something new to play with? I’ve got to brush my teeth, but you can show me in a minute, okay?”

I wait for her to nod, and then nearly run to the bathroom to brush my teeth. After a moment’s debate, I leave the tape on my knuckles – it’s probably no more noticeable than the bloody scabs would be.

Back in the kitchen Esme is spreading jelly on some toast, and I go and stand by her awkwardly.

“I’m sorry about that,” I mutter. “All that screaming and carry on…she won’t do it again.” My hand drifts to my mouth, and I taste the tape Carlisle applied to my knuckles.

“You don’t need to apologise,” Esme says, laying a hand on my arm. “She’s frightened and she got upset, that’s all. Honestly, tantrums are almost a good sign right now, it shows she’s getting comfortable here!” She chuckles. “I’d rather have her complaining about pop tarts and feeling at home, than being too anxious and afraid to make a sound.”

It makes me feel a little better, and I go into the living room to find Alice and Edward sitting on the floor in front of the window, a big plastic tub in between them. Alice is holding a toy pony in each hand and laughing as Edward dances a dinosaur and a sheep along the edge of the tub, giving them a squeaky voiced conversation.

“Look at the all the animals, Emmett!” Alice says happily.

“Hey, that looks fun.” I look into the tub and see piles of toy animals, enough for a zoo and a farm and a pony school at the minimum, along with sections of fencing and tiny dolls and trees. “That’ll keep you busy.”

Alice jumps up and hugs onto my legs. “But you have to come back after school,” she says fiercely. “Here, to this house, not to our house. Promise?”

I crouch down and hug her tightly. “I promise Monkey – I’ll come right back here after school. I’m not leaving you.”

 


	16. A New Experience

“Okay Edward, Emmett – ready to go?” Carlisle tosses his car keys up in the air and catches them again. “I’ll drive you. Oh, Emmett…I nearly forgot!”

He disappears towards his study for a moment, and when he comes back he hands me a cell phone. I take it and look at him uncertainly. “You want me to call you or something?”

“Not unless you need something,” Carlisle laughs. “It’s for you. Don’t get too excited, it’s my old phone and it’s only a loan, but Esme and I will feel more comfortable knowing that you can contact us if you need to, or we can call you. It will hep you and Alice keep in touch with your mom too. The number is on a sticker on the inside of the phone case if you need to give it to someone and you’ve got unlimited texts and calls within network…just don’t go nuts calling internationally or something. Deal?”

“Sure,” I say, a little overwhelmed. “Deal…thanks.” I zip the phone into my backpack, hoping that I don’t break it or lose it or something.

I wave goodbye to Alice one more time and go out to the Mercedes. The drive to school feels all too short, and then Carlisle is pulling into a spot near the gate and turning to grin at me.

“Have a good first day,” he says to me, and then reaches over to squeeze Edward’s shoulder. “And have a good not-first day.”

Edward and I walk towards the gate. “So do you want me to hold your hand and walk you in?” he asks, and it takes a moment before I realise that his deadpan voice is joking.

“Tempting offer, but I think I’ll manage by myself,” I say with a laugh, and Edward grins.

“I’ll look out for you at lunch, if I don’t see you before,” he says. “Good luck!”

I wave to him and head towards the office. I’m nervous, but before I can even say anything to the person behind the front desk she gives me a big smile and says, “Are you Emmett McCarty?”

“Yes ma’am.” I hand over the envelope of completed enrolment paperwork. “Here’s everything signed.”

“Welcome to Camden!” she beams. “I’m Cathy and I work here on the front desk. If you have any questions you can always come here and I’ll help point you in the right direction, okay?” She takes the envelope of paperwork from me and hands me heavy paper folder in exchange. “This has your handbook, schedule, locker assignment and lunch card. Don’t lose it!”

“Okay, thank you.” I take the folder and peek inside- the lunch card is attached to the inside front cover with a paperclip, and my locker number and combination code is written underneath it.

“Here’s your Camden planner.” Cathy hands me a spiral bound planner with the Camden logo on the front. “If you take a look inside there’s a school map, a place for your schedule, class times, teachers’ names and email addresses, vacation dates, school rules and absence notes to be filled in if you’re away…lots of information. Now, I’ve looked at your locker assignment and it’s in the west wing, so you should probably head that way so you can find it before your first class. Would you like me to call another student to help you?”

“I think I can find it,” I say. The library was in the west wing of the school and I remember how to get there.

“Fantastic. If you get stuck, just ask someone, you’ll find someone to help you. Any other questions?”

I shake my head. “No, I think I’ve got it.”

“Great. Well, we’re really glad to have you at Camden Emmett, so good luck with your first day!” Cathy gives me another beaming smile and a little wave, and goes back to her work.

I walk towards where I think my locker is, moving a little hesitantly through the crowd. The halls are pretty busy and I catch a few curious looks being thrown my way, but Edward is right that the kids look pretty much like kids in any high school.

I only make one wrong turn and find my locker pretty easily. It’s conveniently located opposite the door of my homeroom, so once I’ve checked my schedule for the books I need and piled the rest of my stuff haphazardly in my locker, I slip through the door and take a seat near the back. Trying not to look as new and clueless as I feel, I start writing my name on the cover of my new Camden planner and look out of the corner of my eyes at the other kids that enter the room after me.

Most of them check me out. Camden isn’t a really big school, so I guess someone new kind of stands out. And being six and a half feet tall doesn’t exactly help me blend in. A couple of girls take a second look and whisper together, and I pretend not to notice even though they’re pretty and I’m half tempted to smile at them and see what happens. New girls are a bonus to this new school that I haven’t really considered.

I add some shading to the lettering I’m doing on my planner and turn my head casually to the side, letting my eyes drift towards the girls I noticed just a minute ago. But before I reach them another girl walks through the door, and the rest of the world may as well not even exist because I’m never, ever going to be able to look past her.

 _Beautiful_ is the only word, and it doesn’t even go halfway to describing her. Forgetting all about being casual I stare at her, taking in the long legs in her jeans, the dark blue top with lace, her long blonde hair and big eyes, and the way she laughs at something the girl with her says. It’s all so pretty, so perfectly balanced and beautiful, and yet it adds up to something even _more_ … I feel like my heart is beating faster and I can’t quite catch my breath, just looking at her.

If she notices me staring she makes no sign of it. She and her friend are laughing as they take seats in the front and then lean towards each other, heads almost touching as they talk.

I drag half my attention back to the front when the teacher comes in and starts taking attendance, but I’m still amazingly aware of her. Especially when the teacher calls my name and she looks over at me. I would love to know what she’s thinking as her eyes scan me quickly, but that beautiful face doesn’t give anything away.

I listen hard for her name. _Rosalie._ It’s not a name that’s familiar to me and I repeat it inside my head, _Rosalie_ , wishing I knew how to spell it so that I could write it, my mind already busy with the elaborate swirls and embellishments I would draw. Only half listening to the teacher make morning announcements I flip to a new page in the planner and start in on a capital R.

Math is my first class, and when I enter the room I see Edward already sitting there. I hesitate for a moment, not knowing if I should go and sit with him or stay away. I’m uncomfortably conscious of the fact that my sister and I have taken over his house already, and now here I am barging in on his school life too. But he smiles and waves me over, and I give him a grin and say hi as I take a seat beside him.

I keep my eyes peeled for Rosalie, but she isn’t in this class. I wonder what she’s doing now, and then shake my head at myself. How can I be so caught up by a girl I’ve barely even heard speak? What kind of an idiot am I?

I’m pretty lost in the math class. I’m better with numbers than words, at least a bit, but all the days I’ve missed make an obvious difference and I’m pretty behind. The teacher crouches by my desk and goes quickly through my math notebook to see what I’ve already done, then writes me out a list of chapters to work through in the resource room. I know I came here for a better education, but this is only the first class and I’m already wondering how on earth I’m going to manage it.

Math is followed by my worst subject, English, and my stomach feels tight as I take a seat in the back of the classroom. I hate this. It was okay at my last school, everyone knew I was a dumbass and left me alone about it, but starting somewhere new means everyone has to find out how thick I am all over again. My heart falls even further when I realise that the books that the other kids are carrying are something Shakespearean.

 _Shakespeare._ I have enough trouble reading regular fucking English, and now _that_? Plus, it’s a play and teachers nearly always make you read plays out loud…I can feel myself start sweating.

But my anxiety fades into the background a minute later, because Rosalie comes into the classroom and slides into the seat in front of me. She leans back in the chair, tossing her head in a way that leaves her hair all over my desk, and concentrates on whatever she’s doing on her phone.

“Settle down everyone!” The teacher claps his hands to call everyone to attention once he’s set his books down, and the noise level dies down. He meets my eye and gives me a grin. “Good morning. I’d like to say hello to our new friend, Emmett…I hope you’re all making him feel welcome here at Camden. Emmett, I’m Mr Winters, feel free to ask any questions or approach anyone if you need some help. This group is a pretty friendly bunch.”

Embarrassed, I half smile, half grimace at him and slouch down a little lower in my seat. Everyone is staring at me now. But Rosalie twists in her seat and boldly meets my eyes, and I can’t really care what anyone else is doing when I’m looking into eyes so dark blue that they look almost violet.

She turns back to the front and raises her hand. “Should I get him a copy of the play?”

“Yes thank you Rosalie, that would be very helpful. There should still be a few spare copies in the corner cabinet.”

Rosalie goes and rummages around in one of the cupboards that line the back wall of the classroom, coming back with a paperback book that she holds out to me.

“Here you go, new boy.”

Her mouth curves up in a smile and I feel my own answering grin as I take the book. “Thanks.”

It’s _Romeo and Juliet_ and I brace myself for the horror, but it turns out not to be too bad. The teacher assigns roles for students to read, but there aren’t enough for everyone and since he leaves me out I’m able to relax, listening to kids read as I draw in my notebook.

In front of me, Rosalie follows along with the play, a hi-lighter and a pen at hand for marking passages and writing notes. She’s filled almost half a page when the bell rings, marking the end of the lesson.

“We’ll go on with that tomorrow,” Mr Winters says over the noise of the class gathering books and getting to their feet. “Emmett…a word?”

I wait until most people have left and then stand awkwardly by the teacher’s desk. He gives me a friendly nod as he shuffles through papers in his bag. “It’s nice to meet you Emmett. I’ve got a copy of your IEP here somewhere, so we should talk about that…. Found it! So all this was discussed between you, your parents, Ken Rhys from the guidance office, and Kate Johansson from the resource room when you came to enrol?”

I nod and shrug at the same time, feeling my ears go hot with embarrassment.

“Right then, that’s all fine…I won’t ask you to read aloud if you’d rather not?”

“Oh god, no,” I say hastily. “Especially not that. Shakespeare, I mean.”

Mr Winters laughs. “That’s fine. But I really want you to pay attention when it’s being read. I’m hoping the class will be able to see a stage production, but I’d also suggest that you get a hold of one of the filmed versions. The Baz Luhrmann version is straight from the text and usually seems to go down well with students so you could try that one; I think it’s in the library. You’re having regular periods in the resource room?”

“Uh…yeah, every day.” I bite my knuckles, feeling my teeth scrape along the tape and tasting it in my mouth.

“Great, they’ll be able to help you with your assignments, and of course you can ask me for any help you need. If you find yourself falling behind or really struggling, let me know and we’ll see what we can work out. We’ll get you through, but it’s all about communication. Deal?”

“Okay, thanks.” I shift my books and wait for him to nod before I head off to my next class, which is gym. As I walk I think how relieved I am that I won’t have to read aloud, and how this pre-emptive discussion of me having trouble with the classwork felt so awkward but has also left me feeling less pressure.

I don’t have the gym uniform, but since I’m wearing sneakers Ms Blake says I can play anyway. I deposit my books on the sidelines and join the huddle of players that she points me towards.

A tall boy with a buzz cut steps aside a little to make room for me in the group. “Hey, what’s your name? Ethan?”

“Emmett.”

“Oh, right. Are you any good at volleyball?”

“Not too bad.” Volleyball isn’t my favourite game, but sports have always come easy to me and gym is one of the few school classes that I feel confident in.

“Okay, you go front corner, next to Vera,” he directs, pointing at a short girl with pink streaked hair who is standing with her fingers hooked in the net, talking to a player from the other team.

As I walk to my assigned position I see that she’s talking to Rosalie, who looks just as good in a baggy Camden Athletics t-shirt and shorts as she did in her jeans. I pretend not to notice that Rosalie’s eyes are following me, and kneel down to tighten my shoelaces.

“You get the new boy on your team,” Rosalie says to her friend, and the girl with the pink hair turns and grins at me.

“Hi. I’m…uh…Emmett.” I stand up and waggle my fingers in a half wave.

“I’m Vera,” she says. “And this is my friend…”

“Rosalie,” I say. “I saw you in English.”

Rosalie gives me a knowing look, as though _of course_ I would have noticed her, and for a moment I wish I hadn’t been so obvious. But I just shrug and smile at her, because the sound of her name on my tongue is like poetry, and she’s pretty and makes me want to smile, and I’ve never been a guy who was in to playing games.

I haven’t been in a co-ed gym class since eighth grade, and to begin with I’m cautious, aware that I’m easily the biggest person in the game and not wanting to hurt anyone. But no one is messing around and I soon relax into the rhythm of the game, using my height and size to my advantage and having fun with it. It doesn’t matter that I’m the new kid and no one knows me- as long as I’m part of their team I’m okay. As I spike the ball over the net and win us another game, I get high fives from the other guys and low fives from the shorties like Vera and I know that I’ll soon feel like I belong here. It’s one of the reasons I love sports.

On the other team, Rosalie plays like she’s out for blood. She’s fast and strong and plays with a fierce competitiveness that I can only admire, even as she spikes the ball over the net as though she wants to smash it through someone’s face. It’s also good that she’s such a dominant player, because I keep looking at her and at least this way everyone just thinks it’s because she’s good at sports rather than because I’m a creeper.

I’m disappointed when the game is over and everyone else heads to the locker rooms to change, although I’m relieved that since I don’t have a change of clothes I don’t have to shower. I retie my sneakers and hope that I’m not going to smell too revolting for the rest of the day.

The gym teacher, Ms Blake comes over to me as I’m picking up my books. “You did pretty well today. Do you play any sports outside school?”

“Nah. I mean, I love sports but I look after my little sister after school, so…it doesn’t really fit in.”

She nods understandingly. “That’s a pity. It seemed like you enjoyed it, and you’re pretty athletic and displayed some good sportsmanship. Has anyone spoken with you about your community group involvement? You know that’s a program we run where our older students run activities for the elementary schoolers?”

“Oh yeah, that’s Edward’s piano thing,” I say. “He told me about it; he plays piano for a first grade choir or something.”

Ms Blake laughs. “Yes, we try and run activities in as many different areas as we can – music, dance, arts, creative writing, science, math, drama, cooking…anything an older student has a skill or interest in can be developed into an activity. We also do a lot of sports activities, and if you’d like to assist in that area you’d be more than welcome. Have a think about it and let me know, okay?”

“Sure.” It sounds good – I’d rather play baseball or kickball or even do a beanbag toss than sing in a choir.

“Great. And welcome to Camden Emmett, it’s nice to have you aboard.”


	17. Monkey on my Back

I’m in the lunch line trying to decide what I want to eat when I feel a tap on the arm. It’s Edward.

“Hey, how has your day been so far?”

“Not bad. It’s a lot to get used to, but it’s been pretty good…pasta please,” I add in the direction of the lunch lady, and she serves out a big helping. It looks and smells great, and I think that changing schools might be worth it for the food alone.

“That’s good. I just thought I’d check in, and say if you’re looking for a place to sit there’s a spare seat over with me and my friends,” Edward says shyly. “Of course if you’d rather not that’s fine too.”

“No, that sounds good,” I say, handing over my lunch card to be scanned and then taking my tray. Along with the pasta I’ve got a side of vegetables, some juice and a banana, and I’m careful not to let anything spill as I turn to follow. Sitting with Edward sounds better than sitting on my own, and although I’ve met people this morning I don’t know how to find them, or even recognise them, in this crowded cafeteria.

Edward leads me to a table over by the windows and I put down my tray and sit in the spare seat at the end. “Hey,” I say to the table in general.

“Everyone, this is Emmett,” Edward says, taking his seat and making the introductions. “This is Ben, Angela, Jessica, Mike, Eric and Bella…Emmett’s staying with my family for a little while and he’s just started here.”

“You were in my gym class,” Ben says, and Angela nods in agreement.

“Me too…we were on the opposite team though. You killed us,” she says with a laugh.

“Just a game,” I say with an easy grin.

“Where did you transfer from?” Jessica, a brunette with a flirty smile, leans towards me.

“I went to the high school here in town,” I answer.

“So how come you’re staying with Edward’s family now?”

I take my time chewing and swallowing, considering how to answer. I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to go into the whole messy and sordid story either. “My mom’s not well,” I say slowly. “And my little sister was just in hospital so she needs someone to look after her and my mom can’t do it. So for now we’re staying at the Cullens’ place.”

I flick a quick glance at Edward, but he just looks back at me with the same calm, serious face as ever. Whatever I say about our situation he’ll go along with, and I feel a brief lightening of my heart when I realise that he’s kind of in my corner.

“Oh, I’m sorry your sister was in hospital! Is she okay?”

Jessica is persistent if nothing else, and my hand drifts up to my mouth as my stomach tightens with anxiety. “She’s getting better,” I say, not wanting to go into it but not sure how to shut it down without being rude either.

Like he’s read my mind, Edward breaks into the conversation and changes the subject. “So what else have you had besides math and gym?” he asks.

“English, and then biology. I’ve got history after lunch…” Distracted by a swish of long blonde hair and a golden laugh my voice trails off, and I look across the cafeteria to see Rosalie taking her seat at a crowded table. Despite the distance it’s almost like she feels me watching, and for a moment our eyes meet.

“Who are you looking at?” Edward follows my gaze. “Oh Emmett, _really_? Her?”

“What?” I look at him. “Rosalie? What about her? Do you know her?”

“Rosalie Hale,” Edward says looking pained, and the rest of the table murmurs.

I don’t know if their reaction is positive or not. I also wonder if this is making me look like a weird, creepy new guy, but at the same time they all seem to know her… “What’s the story?”

“Our parents are friends,” Edward says, with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

“Princess Rosalie?” Jessica says with a giggle. “Just one of those girls that make a hobby out of perfection. Honours classes, cheerleader, part time model…full time snob.”

“She’s not that bad,” Angela protests. “You’re being a little harsh, Jess.”

Jessica snorts. “If anything I’m being kind. She’s a bitch.” She looks at me. “Sorry Emmett, but it’s true. Besides, she has this whole on and off thing going with Royce King – that’s the guy sitting beside her. He plays football, has bucketloads of money, and you can see for yourself that he’s disgustingly good looking. The two of them are like the biggest cliché…they’re always breaking up and getting back together again, and they’ve pretty much had senior prom king and queen sewn up since Royce started freshman year. I’ve known Rosalie since kindergarten, and she is very used to getting what she wants.”

I’m a little overwhelmed by this information dump, and also a little crestfallen to learn that Rosalie is both smart _and_ has a boyfriend. It’s hardly _surprising_ , and even if she were single the odds of anything happening are so long as to be nearly non existent, especially if she’s in honours classes rather than special ed, but even so…

Angela shakes her head. “I worked with her on arranging an assembly for International Women’s Day last year, and Rosalie isn’t exactly what everyone thinks she is. She _does_ come across as a little bit of a bitch sometimes,” she concedes, “But she’s really smart and pretty nice when you get to know her.”

It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement. But when I catch Rosalie’s eye again across the room, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks – there is something about her and I know I will have to try and get to know her for myself.

After not finishing my breakfast this morning I’m starving, so I dig in to my lunch and listen as the conversation flows around me. Ben and Angela work for the student newspaper, and they’re trying to convince Bella to write something for it. Jessica and Eric talk about their science project, with Mike making jokes to everyone in the background. Edward’s pretty quiet, but he smiles at me when he catches my eye.

“Have your classes been okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, people are pretty friendly and the teachers seem okay. It’s a lot of work though.” I feel slightly anxious as I think of the academic standard I’ve been encountering here.

“Don’t worry too much,” Edward says. “You’ll get used to it. And Carlisle and Esme just love to help with homework.” He rolls his eyes, and I can’t help laughing.

His family are so sitcom-perfect that it still seems like it must be put on somehow, but today it feels good to know that they have my back.

_______________________________________________

I hurry home after school, anxious to see how Alice has got through the day without me. I know Esme is taking good care of her, but the scene from the morning has stayed in my mind. The house is quiet when I let myself in and I’m just about to call out when I see Esme rising out of an armchair in the living room holding a finger to her lips.

“She’s asleep,” she whispers, and points to the sofa.

I go over and look down at Alice. She’s curled up in the corner with her thumb in her mouth and her bunny in her free hand, and her cheeks are red and stained with tears.

“She’s been crying,” I say quietly.

Esme nods. “Come out to the kitchen and get a snack.”

I follow her into the kitchen and pour myself some milk, then grab a bag of chips and the salsa. “What happened to her?”

“Sit down and eat,” Esme says, taking the seat opposite. “Alice had a hard day, that’s all. She’s still confused occasionally, and I think it’s really beginning to hit her that this is home for now, and she’s not sure how she feels about that. She missed you.”

“I should have stayed home with her,” I say.

Esme shakes her head. “No; school is important and you can’t miss any more days. Alice is safe and being cared for, and deep down she knows that. The quicker we get her into a regular, predictable routine here, the sooner she’ll settle down and start to feel safer.”

I grimace at the taste of the soggy, chewed tape on my knuckles as my fist goes automatically to my teeth. It’s been a long, stressful day and I haven’t been able to stop myself. I pull the tape off and ball it up, shoving it in my pocket to toss later. My hands look disgusting.

“She’s making a fantastic recovery though,” Esme goes on. “Carlisle is really pleased with her progress and thinks she can possibly go back to school herself next week. Perhaps half days to start with as she’s still getting very tired, but I really think school and her friends will help her feel settled.”

I hope she’s right. I’m having a hard enough time with all this, and I’m practically an adult compared to Alice. I hate the idea that she’s been crying today and I wasn’t there.

“But how was your first day?” Esme asks. “Did it all go well?”

I nod through a mouthful of chips. “It was good,” I say, swallowing. “The people seem nice and I found my way around okay. I think it’s going to be a lot of work though.”

“They have high expectations for their students,” Esme agrees. “You’ll have to get into the habit of studying, but you’ll have plenty of help from your teachers and the resource room.”

The front door bangs, and a moment later Edward comes into the kitchen. “Hi,” he says, sitting down and reaching for the chips. “Mind if I join you?”

“Go ahead.”

“Good day?” Esme asks him.

Edward answers, but I don’t pay any attention because his entrance must have woken Alice and a second later she’s hurtling into my arms, sobbing as she wraps her arms around me in a strangling hug.

“Hey Monkey,” I say, ignoring her tears as much as I can. “Do you want some chips too?”

She keeps crying, so I just keep rubbing her back until her sobs slow to hiccups. “What about it?” I try again. “Do you want chips?”

“Okay,” Alice sniffs. She takes a couple of chips but doesn’t start eating, instead looking at me with tear filled eyes. “Please don’t go to school anymore, please stay here with me.”

“Can’t do that Monkey,” I say as cheerfully as I can. “Esme’s laid down the law, I have to go _every_ day. You’ll be okay though, she’ll look after you. What did you do today? Play with the animals?”

“We made a zoo; I’ll show you. And Esme helped me write a letter for Mommy,” she says slowly. “I was going to say sorry for being sick but Esme said I didn’t have to. She said it’s not my fault. So I wrote about Catkin, and Edward playing the piano, and that you are going to a different school. Is that okay?”

I swallow hard over the lump in my throat. “Yeah, that’s okay. Esme’s right that it’s not your fault, so you don’t have to say sorry. I think a letter is a really good idea.”

“You could draw a picture of Catkin and send it too,” Alice offers, looking a little brighter. “You draw good cats.”

I squeeze her tightly, without saying anything else. I hate that Alice feels responsible for this. And just briefly, a thought crushed almost before I can really think it, I hate Momma for doing this to her.

__________________________________________________

Alice doesn’t let me out of her sight for the rest of the afternoon. While I sit at the table doing homework under Esme’s supervision, Alice sits beside me and does her “homework” too, writing out lists of words and making up a page of math problems. When Edward offers to teach her some more piano she drags me into the library to sit through the lesson there. Even when I have to use the bathroom she waits outside, and at dinner she pushes her chair so close to mine that she’s practically sitting in my lap. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy.

“Just go with it for tonight,” Esme whispers. “She missed you today and she needs the reassurance.”

So I don’t say anything. When Esme offers to help Alice shower and wash her hair and Alice starts clinging to me and sobbing I just take her off into the bathroom and do it myself.

Alice does let Esme comb the tangles out of her damp hair and braid it though- even when she doesn’t want to let me out of reach Alice does concede that my hairdressing skills are crap.

“Can we call Mommy?” she asks as Esme ties the ends of the braid. “Is she at home?”

Esme kisses the top of her head. “You can call and find out,” she says. “Carlisle gave Emmett a phone to use, so you two can call whenever you want.”

I take Alice into my bedroom and call home on the borrowed cell phone. Momma answers, and I breathe a sigh of relief when she sounds a bit more with it than she did yesterday.

Alice takes the phone from my hand. “Hi Mommy.”

I lie on the bed and listen to Alice’s half of the conversation. She tells Momma about what she’s been doing, but she’s pretty subdued and the conversation doesn’t last too long.

“Hi Momma,” I say, taking the phone back. “This is my borrowed phone, so you can save the number and call us too if you want.”

Alice lies next to me, sucking her thumb and listening.

“Damn it’s quiet in this house without you and Alice and Mark!” Momma grumbles. “I mean, the peace from that kid and her crap is nice, but I don’t know…when did I ever live alone? Anyway, I don’t know how long it’ll last, Nat’s landlord has been screwing her over and since you’re all away I was thinking she might just move in here for a bit…”

I nearly choke. Nat, with all her drugs and her extremely questionable ways of paying for them, is not going to help Momma’s sobriety at all, and having her in our house sounds like a terrible idea. “Momma, are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, you’re supposed to be going to rehab and Nat’s not really…um…”

“Jesus Em, I’m just helping out a friend; get the fuck over yourself!” Momma snaps. “I AM going to go to rehab. I got some pamphlets to look at and I’m figuring it out. It’s not like it all happens instantly.”

“Oh, that’s great,” I say in relief. “That’s really good Momma. And hey, I went to my new school today.”

“How’d it go?”            

I tell about my first day, until I can tell that her attention is beginning to wander, and then I wind up the conversation and hang up. For a moment I close my eyes, feeling impossibly tired

Alice brings me back. “You’re bleeding.” I feel her touch on my hands. “You need a band aid.”

“I need a lot more than a band aid,” I mutter, sitting up and looking at my knuckles. They actually look a bit better after whatever cream Carlisle used and being taped, but they could do with a bit of attention. “Let’s go and ask Carlisle.”

I ask Carlisle where the first aid stuff is, but instead of handing it over for me to do myself he fetches it and sits beside me, holding out his hands until I lay mine in them.

“They’re looking a bit better,” he comments, tilting them towards the light. “Did having the tape on help you stop at all?”

I shrug. “Maybe. I just don’t really know I’m doing it until it hurts, but the tape tasted so gross that it made me notice it at least.” My ears are feeling hot with embarrassment.

“Well, that’s something I guess. I’m going to put some more antiseptic cream on it and tape it again just to really knock out any infection, and then we can see how you go.” Carlisle’s hands are gentle and quick as he works.

“Me too,” Alice says, pushing her way in beside me. “I need band aids too, like Emmett.”

“Monkey…” I start, but Carlisle stops me with a quick smile and a shake of his head.

“Okay Alice, hold out your hands.”

He carefully tapes her tiny hands, and there’s something about the tender way he touches her that makes my stomach hurt. Why doesn’t she have a proper dad to put on band aids and look out for her? Why don’t I?


	18. Bones and Hair and Pineapples

I know as soon as I wake up and feel the cold, clammy sheets clinging to my legs that Alice has wet the bed again. “Shit!”

I know she can’t help it, I know that it’s not like she wants to wet the bed…but I’m sixteen years old and regularly waking up with my five year old sister and a puddle of pee in my bed is really wearing thin.

I strip to my underpants and start pulling off wet bedding. Alice wakes up and starts crying, and once again Esme comes and takes all the sheets to the laundry while I hustle Alice into the bathroom to wash.

“Okay, run to your room and get some clothes while I have a shower,” I say, almost begging. “Come on Monkey, please…just give me five minutes to have a shower by myself, _please_.”

It’s not even like I want to _do_ anything in the shower on my own…I just want five fucking minutes ALONE.

“No, no, no…I won’t look, I promise!” She spins around to face the wall.

“Alice…”

“No!” She pulls the towel over her head and I hear her sobbing. “I’m going to stay here…with you…”

I give up and get into the shower, pretending that it’s the hot water that’s making my eyes burn. How much longer can I keep doing this? I love her to distraction, but things have fallen apart and this time I can’t fix it for her, and it’s killing me.

When we’re both washed and dressed we go to the kitchen. Edward is eating steel cut oats and there are bowls ready for Alice and I, so I grab mine and sit down at the table to eat. Alice sits down too, but only plays with hers.

“You’ve got to eat,” I tell her with a sigh. “Do you want something else?”

“If you go to school I won’t eat all day,” she says sullenly.

“Then you’ll be pretty damn hungry, won’t you?” I say, not exactly doing the best job at reining in my irritation.

“I’ll starve to death and be only bones and hair when you come home and then you’ll be sorry!”

Edward just about chokes on his oats, but I hear a giggle from Esme, quickly smothered by the sound of the Vitamix.

“Bones and hair?” I ask. “What are you talking about?”

Alice pouts. “I saw it on tv; on that police show…when you die your body goes all mouldy and disgusting and then you turn into a skeleton with hair and sometimes clothes. And if you leave me that’s what’s going to happen.” She glares at me.

Okay, slightly inappropriate tv watching there. “Alice, I have to go to school. And you don’t die and turn into bones and hair in seven hours, which is about how long I’m going to be gone.”

“Seven HOURS?!?!” Alice thumps her head dramatically down on the table and starts bawling. Again.

“I’ve got some juice,” Esme says calmly. “Here Alice, tell me how many fruits you think it has today. Can you guess what some of them are?”

Alice, evidently deciding juice isn’t food and won’t affect her plans to wither away to bones and hair, lifts her head and drinks it down. “Strawberries?” she says doubtfully. “Blueberries?”

“Excellent!” Esme says. “Both right. Strawberries and blueberries, plus raspberries, banana and kale.”

There’s juice for Edward and I too, which goes well with the oatmeal. I’m a little keyed up about my second day at Camden, but at least I’m not nervous enough for it to affect my appetite this time and I finish all my breakfast and then Alice’s too.

“I’m sorry about this,” I say to Esme through gritted teeth as I try and prise Alice off my leg when it’s time to go. She’s crossed her legs around my calf and wrapped her arms around my knee and she’s clinging like a barnacle. It’s proving surprisingly difficult to peel her off.

“That’s okay,” Esme says, still seeming relaxed as she takes Alice’s hands and physically restrains her from gripping on to my jeans. “Alice and I are going to run some errands this morning. We’ll have to go to the post office and post your letter, Alice, and we have to go to the pet store for some more food for Catkin. I also thought we could choose some fabric to make Carlisle some new scrubs for work, and then we might go to my favourite café for coffee and cake…how does that sound?”

“No good without Emmett,” Alice sniffles, but she’s in Esme’s arms now and I take my chance to wave and run, shouting goodbye as I go.

Edward has gone on ahead for some band thing, and I can’t help feeling glad that I’m alone as I walk to school. Alice’s behaviour is infuriating- she’s behaving like a toddler. And I know how hard it all is for her right now…but it’s hard for me too, and it’s not like her behaving like a tantrum-throwing two year old is making it any easier!

By the time I reach school I’m feeling a bit better. I’ve jogged half the way just to feel like I’m moving, and the exercise has left me feeling happy. The prospect of another day of school looming ahead of me dims it a little, but at least it’s got the potential to be interesting. I take my seat in homeroom, pulling out my planner and continuing work on my name on the front of it.

I feel the jump in my stomach when Rosalie walks into the classroom, and I sit up a little straighter when she slides into the seat in front of me. A second later the seat beside her is taken by a dark haired guy that I think might be the on and off boyfriend that Jessica pointed out yesterday. Royce? Neither of them pays the least bit of attention to me.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he demands.

“Why do you think?” Rosalie angles her body away from him, her voice sounding tight.

“What? Because of the other night…seriously?”

“I’m so sick of this same stupid fight!” Rosalie flips her hair and glares at him. “How often do we have to do this?”

“You’re the one who…”

“Don’t even start!” Rosalie snaps. “How many different ways do I have to tell you to leave me alone before you get the hint?”

I’m waiting to hear his answer when the teacher comes into the room and cuts the conversation off. I add a little more shading to my name, and settle back for attendance and morning announcements.

My first class is art, and just the smell of paint in the art room relaxes me. This is one part of school that I have always loved. You don’t need reading to be able to draw.

The teacher, who asks me to call him Cal, greets me at the door. “Emmett, nice to have you in the class! I’ve heard some good things about your drawing.” He’s older man with a beard and a flannel shirt, and he looks more like a lumberjack than an artist. “Do you have a sketchbook or anything to show me?”

“I don’t have a sketchbook, but you can look at my notebook if you want…” I hand it over, feeling my ears heat up. It’s supposed to be my English notebook, but there are a lot more pages of sketches and cartoons than there are of written work.

“Not bad at all,” Cal says. “I like your style…you’ve definitely got something there. Your English teacher would probably prefer you kept it out of your notebook though, so let’s get you fixed up with a sketchbook. I’ve got a few spare out the back.”

He disappears into a storeroom and returns a minute later with a brand new sketchbook and a pack of different drawing pencils and pens that he places on to my table with a smile. “There you go. I’m not sure how you’re fixed for supplies, but that should see you right for now.”

He doesn’t wait for my thank you but heads off to greet other kids coming through the door. I carefully unwrap the pencils, unable to resist opening the sketchbook and testing them out. It probably sounds stupid, but I’ve never had a proper sketchbook or pens and pencils like these. I’m so absorbed in what I’m doing I don’t even notice who else is coming into the class.

“Hey new boy, mind if I sit here?”

It’s Rosalie, standing by my table and looking down at me with a half smile and raised eyebrows.

My own mouth curves up in a matching grin. “Be my guest.”

With a sideways look that even I recognise as flirtatious, Rosalie sits beside me and brings her sketchbook and a pencil tin out of her bag. She’s wearing a short skirt and boots today, and her legs stretched out under the bench look almost as long as mine.

“So how are you enjoying Camden, new boy?” Rosalie twirls a pencil between her fingers.

“You know I’ve got a name, right?” I say teasingly.

Her smile widens. “I know your name, _Emmett McCarty_.”

Sweet hell, who knew my name could sound so sexy? I swallow hard and try and look casual. “Camden’s okay.”

At the front of the class Cal claps his hands, and I look away from Rosalie. “Okay everyone, it’s back to the fruit,” he says, hauling a big cardboard box onto the table in front of him. “Try something new…challenge yourself!”

“Fruit?” I say in confusion, and Rosalie laughs.

“We’re doing still life drawing; practising on individual fruits. I’ll go get us some produce.”

I watch her walk up to the front and rummage through the box, exchanging a few words with other people. I love the way she smiles. She sees me watching and ducks her head for a moment, before she selects a pineapple and carries it ceremoniously back to our table.

“A pineapple? You couldn’t have found anything harder to draw?” I say.

Rosalie considers it lying there on the bench. “I think it’s interesting.” She pulls a water bottle out of her bag and props the pineapple up against it. “Standing up or lying down?”

“Standing up.” I pick up a pencil. “So…I just draw it? I mean, do I have to set things out a particular way or what?”

“There’ll be a graded assignment later on, but this is just practise so no rules.” Rosalie starts to draw.

It takes me a few tries to really get started- I’ve never drawn a pineapple before. But it’s a fun challenge, and doing something that requires concentration is a good distraction from the thoughts of Alice and Momma that keep creeping back and preying on my mind.

It’s not a distraction from Rosalie though. I am acutely aware of her beside me, drawing slowly and carefully, occasionally humming under her breath.

“Emmett, how are you getting on?” Cal leans over my shoulder. “That’s looking great…pineapples are my favourites and your picture’s making me hungry, so well done.”

I can’t help grinning. Truthfully I get so little approval at school that it’s a rare and pleasant change to be told I’m doing something good.

Cal moves over to Rosalie. “Good effort here, you’re really coming along. Remember to draw what you see, not what you think it looks like…how many leaves does your pineapple actually have?”

He moves on and Rosalie looks over at my book. “That’s really good. Very pineapple-y.”

“Do we get to eat it once we’re done?”

“Do you really want to eat fruit that’s been handled by three classes?” Rosalie says, making a face.

I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve eaten fruit destined for a dumpster before, when that was what was available; a pineapple that’s spent most of its day sitting on a bench being a model still seems perfectly appetizing to me. I frown slightly, transforming my pineapple by drawing a horrified face and spindly legs on it so that it looks like it’s running across the page.

Rosalie glances across and burst out laughing. “That looks amazing.”

“Thank you…probably not exactly a still life I guess.” I look at her paper. “I think yours is a bit more like what Cal wants.”

Rosalie makes a dismissive noise. “I’m not very good, but I needed an art credit so here I am.” But the sideways look she gives me makes me think that she’s not really all that unhappy to be here, at least not right now. “So how come you’ve transferred here at this time of year?”

“I was flunking out of the high school and they thought I’d do better here,” I say candidly. As embarrassing as is it to admit this, I figure I may as well be straight about it. It’s not like I can hide what a dumbass I am anyway. People aren’t going to the resource room because they’re honour students.

“It would be hard to move in the middle of the semester,” Rosalie says.

I shrug. “It just kind of happened that way. I don’t mind too much.” Seeing that Rosalie has finished her sketch I rearrange the pineapple and start a second drawing. “And Edward is here, he gave me a bit of a clue about what to expect.”

“Edward?”

“Oh, Edward Cullen. I’m staying with his family for a while; his mom and dad are really the ones that sorted out me coming here,” I say.

I don’t miss the slight twitch of Rosalie’s mouth at the sound of Edward’s name, and remembering his reaction to her name I can’t help laughing. “What is it with you two? You and Edward aren’t friends?”

“We’re bitter nemeses,” Rosalie says solemnly, but her eyes are sparkling and then she relaxes into a grin. “Has he said he doesn’t like me either?”

I laugh but don’t answer. I feel oddly protective towards Edward, and I don’t want to throw him under a bus here.

“It’s okay, I know I’m not his favourite person,” Rosalie says, not seeming too upset about it. “Our parents are friends and we’ve known each other forever; when I was younger Esme was even my babysitter while my parents worked. We’re basically two incompatible children who were forced to spend all our time together, and we’ve been arguing about everything since we were babies…who is bigger, smarter, faster, better at playing the piano – basically anything.”

“And who wins?” I ask in amusement.

Rosalie snorts. “That’s a tough call! We were appallingly evenly matched as children. Now…well of course we’re far too mature for such competition! Or at least that’s what we’d say.” She grins wickedly. “Although of course I would win, if it came down to it! Except for the piano.” She sighs ruefully. “It kills me to admit it, but I couldn’t play like Edward if I practised for a thousand years. However it’s not as though emo Edward could cheer or tumble if his life depended on it and, compared to the rest of the world and not prodigy Edward, I _do_ play the piano pretty well, so I’m not feeling too inferior.”

I laugh and add another spiky leaf to my pineapple. “Are you a cheerleader?”

“Yes. Just here at school this year; I’ve put my competition team on hold so I can focus more on schoolwork, until I’ve done the SATs.” Rosalie gives up on her second drawing, where the reclining pineapple looks like it’s rotting, and scribbles over it with a frustrated sigh. “What are you doing staying with the Cullens anyway?”

“That’s a story for another time,” I say lightly.

“Ooh, a man of mystery,” Rosalie teases.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Not really. It’s just kind of complicated…and not that much fun to talk about.”

The last part slips out without me meaning to say it, and I bite down hard on my knuckles in an effort to make me stop talking. I don’t want to get into the whole shameful mess of my life with this girl, not now. Not when talking to her has been the best thing that’s happened to me all day. Not when she’s looking at me the way she is.

“Well, new boy Emmett Cullen,” Rosalie says after a pause. “Whatever brought you to the Cullens and then to Camden…I hope you’re not too sorry for it?”

Sorry for it? She has no idea…but she’s smiling at me and it’s like the sun’s brightness is chasing away the clouds. Oh, I’m sorry for all of it…but maybe not for meeting Rosalie.


	19. The Nicest Lady in the World

The second I walk in the front door after school Alice bursts into tears, abandons her animal farm, and runs to me. I catch her and look up at Esme questioningly.

“She hasn’t cried all day,” Esme tells me. “We did all our errands and she helped me make enchiladas for dinner.”

“We went to the café and had coffee and cake,” Alice wipes her nose on the shoulder of my t-shirt and gives me a wobbly smile. “Cheesecake. And Esme said we could buy you a piece to bring home for after school because I said you would like it.”

“I think I will,” I say, setting her back down on the floor. “Why don’t you go and get it for me?”

As soon as she scampers off to the kitchen I look at Esme. “Why does she keep crying?”

Esme looks thoughtful. “Alice is holding in a lot of emotions during the day when it’s just the two of us. She doesn’t trust me enough yet to allow herself to be very vulnerable, so she holds it all together until you come home, and then it all comes out the only way she knows how. Tears.”

“I guess that’s better than threatening to starve herself and shrivel up to bones and hair,” I say, remembering the morning.

“It’s probably easier to deal with,” Esme agrees. “She didn’t have a nap today either, so she’s probably pretty tired. At the moment her strongest sense of security comes from being with you, and she’s struggling to let you go. But as she gradually feels more comfortable and secure here with Carlisle and I, that desperate clinginess should ease a little.”

“I hope so,” I say with a sigh.

Esme gives me a brief hug. “It will. I had a call from Mara today to say that she’s arranged for you and Alice to visit with Maddie later this week, and I think that might help her as well. Maybe seeing her mom will reassure her that her entire life hasn’t just disappeared, and that will be a good thing. Mara is coming by later to talk about it.”

I hear Alice calling me, and go to the kitchen to see what’s going on. The table is covered in fabric and pins and scissors; Edward is already home and seated at the counter; and Alice is holding a pencil and a little notebook and waiting for me impatiently.

“You have to sit at the counter with Edward,” she orders, pointing at him. “Because that’s my café and I’m going to be the waitress.”

Edward grins at me as I take the stool next to him. “Welcome to Café Alice.”

“What do you want?” Alice asks, her pencil poised above the paper. Before I can answer she adds in a stage whisper, “You have to say cheesecake.”

“Um…cheesecake?”

“I’d like the cheesecake please ma’am,” Edward says formally.

Alice throws me a look that very clearly expresses her opinion that Edward is better at playing her game than me, and writes _2 cheezcaks_ in her notebook. “Okay, I’ll bring it.”

She gives us each a dinner plate and a spoon, and then brings out a box from the fridge and puts it on the counter. “It’s chocolate cheesecake,” she announces, before she transfers big slices from the box to plates with two hands. “There you go.”

Judging by the horrified look on his face, Edward definitely doesn’t consider Alice’s bare hands to be appropriate serving utensils. For a moment I think he’s not going to eat it, but eventually he takes a spoonful and puts it somewhat gingerly in his mouth. “Thank you Alice.”

The cheesecake is excellent, and I give her a thumbs up. “Good choice Monkey, I love this. So what else did you do today besides buy me cheesecake?”

“We went shopping. Esme is going to make Carlisle new clothes for the hospital and she let me pick the fabric…see?” Alice goes over to the table and strokes the material that Esme is pinning bits of paper on to. “It’s got cats on it.”

The cats are neon pink and purple and look like they’re victims of some horrific science experiment. “Well, Carlisle is certainly going to look like something special wearing scrubs made out of that.”

Edward snorts with laughter, but Alice just beams at me. “I know.”

“How was your day at school today?” Esme asks, beginning to cut the material around the paper shapes.

“I had art…I like the art teacher.” _And I like the art classmate._ “I drew a pineapple.”

Alice wants to see it, and she laughs hysterically at the pineapple’s racing legs and terrified expression. “Do more!”

“You draw one while I eat my cheesecake,” I say. “Pretend they’re running away from Esme’s Vitamix.”

Alice thinks that’s hilarious, and she runs and finds a pencil. Her apple looks like a fruit version of Edvard Munch’s Scream painting and her banana is almost obscene, but she’s proud of them and that’s what matters. Once I’ve finished my snack I find one of my new pencils and draw a menacing Vitamix in the corner of the paper, chasing all the fruit, and Alice just about falls off the chair with laughter. I love seeing her so happy.

Eventually I remember my homework, and reluctantly put the drawing aside and drag my backpack over to the table.

“Do you have much homework?” Esme asks.

“I’ve got a lot of math. I’ve missed heaps, so I have to do some make-up chapters. And I’m supposed to read the first couple of acts of that play.” I bite my knuckles. “I tried today when I was in the resource room, but even when I can read the words I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean.”

“I can help you with the play,” Esme offers. “I majored in English literature in college, so I’ve read a fair bit of Shakespeare in my time. I’m afraid math isn’t my area though, so if you need help with that you should probably ask Edward.”

Asking Edward for help is the last thing I want to do. But ten minutes later my knuckles are bleeding and my work is at a complete standstill, and when Esme offers gently to go and see if he wouldn’t mind taking a look I let her.

“What are you stuck on?” Edward comes into the kitchen and pulls out the chair beside me. “Is it what we were doing today?”

I shake my head. “No, Miss French said I can’t really start on that until I do the work in the earlier chapters. So I’m here…” I push the book over to him and he takes a quick look.

“Oh okay, I see what you’re doing…”

“Are you good at math?” Alice is sitting on the other side of the table with a colouring book, watching us.

Edward grins. “I’m okay.”

“I’m good at math,” Alice says matter-of-factly. “But Emmett’s hopeless, he said so.”

“He’s not hopeless,” Edward says. “No one is hopeless at math…he just needs more practice.” He gives me an embarrassed smile.

“Well, Camden is going to make sure I get all the practise I need,” I say wryly, and Edward laughs.

“They do make you work. Let’s get on with this.”

I feel like the biggest bonehead in the world having to have him basically tutoring me, but I can’t deny that he’s helpful. He shows me again how to do the equations, giving me more examples until I get it, and then without making a thing about it he brings his own homework out to the table so that I can check in with him if I need to.

I’m just finishing up the chapter when the doorbell sounds, and Mara arrives for her visit.

“Well look at you all sitting up doing your homework!” she exclaims. “Fantastic!”

“Edward is teaching Emmett math,” Alice tells her. “And my homework is really just colouring in because I’m only in first grade. And I didn’t even go to school today anyway.”

“Well, it’s great to see that Emmett is working so hard,” Mara says. “Has your start at Camden gone well?”

I nod, closing up my math notebook and pushing it into my backpack. “Yeah, it’s been good so far.”

“Coffee? Tea?” Esme offers.

“Tea would be great thank you.” Mara sits down at the table next to Alice. “That’s some beautiful colouring Alice. You look like you’re feeling a lot better now.”

Alice nods. “But Carlisle said I still can’t go to school yet.”

“We don’t want to rush things…you shouldn’t go to school until you feel completely better,” Mara agrees. “What have you been doing at home while Emmett’s at school?”

“Not at home,” Alice says uncertainly, glance at me. “I stay here with Esme.”

“It’s okay for you to call this home while you’re here,” Mara says gently. “You don’t have to, but it’s okay if you want to.”

Alice nods, but doesn’t say anything, and a moment later Mara asks her again what she’s been doing with Esme.

“She took me to the café,” Alice says. “And we bought cat food for Catkin.” She goes back to her colouring book.

“That sounds like fun, I love going to cafes,” Mara tells Alice. “Now, I think I’ve got some good news for you two; we’ve arranged for you to have a visit with your mom on Friday afternoon.”

I wince as my teeth bite down on my bruised fist. “How does that work?”

“Since the visits must be supervised at this stage it’ll have to take place at our office. We have a few different rooms where families can spend time together, and there are always staff there to help with any difficulties.”

“Does Momma know about this?”

Mara nods. “Yes, I spoke to her first. She’s looking forward to seeing you both.”

“I thought Alice and I could pick you up after school and I’ll take you to the office. You can visit and I’ll go and do the grocery shopping until you’re done,” Esme tells me.

So far Alice hasn’t said anything. She’s concentrating very hard on her colouring, her eyebrows lowered in a frown.

“What do you think about that, Monkey?” I ask. “You’ll get to see Momma again.”

“I think…that’s okay,” she says cautiously.

I leave it at that. I know she’s not totally thrilled, but I have a pretty good idea of why and I don’t think it’s a good idea to get into the messy details in front of Esme and Mara.

Esme excuses herself and Edward to go and do something in another room, and Mara looks at me seriously. “How are things really going here, Emmett? Are you happy and settling in? No problems with Carlisle or Esme?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s all going fine.”

“So you’re happy with the situation as it stands? You’re okay with the placement and with your change in schooling? Remember you’re talking to me in confidence, so don’t be afraid to say anything.”

“No, it’s really going fine,” I say again. “They’re…really nice people.”

“What about you, Alice? Is there anything you don’t like about living here, or anything you want to ask me?”

“I don’t like that Emmett has to go to school. I want him to stay home with me,” Alice says plaintively.

“I’m afraid he can’t stay home with you. But do you think Esme and Carlisle are doing a good job of taking care of you while Emmett is at school?” Mara asks.

“Esme is a good cook and she makes us juice,” Alice says after thinking for a moment. “And Carlisle reads to me at bedtime.”

“Well, that all sounds fabulous,” Mara says cheerfully. “And what about Edward? How are you both getting along with him?”

“He’s teaching me to play the piano. So far I can only do half of one song, but he knows all of them.” Alice is clearly impressed. “He’s so smart.”

Mara looks at me. “And what about you? It can be challenging to suddenly have a same age foster sibling.”

“Edward and I are getting along great; he’s a really good dude,” I say, half surprised to realise how much I’m growing to like and respect him. “You saw him helping me with my math when you came in. He’s like a fucking genius or something, but he doesn’t try and make me feel stupid. And he’s nice to Alice.”

Honestly, being nice to Alice is pretty much all it takes- I’ll like anyone who treats her well and makes her happy.

Mara seems satisfied. “I’m really glad to hear that this placement is going well. You’re safe and taken care of here, and I’ll continue to work with your mom to see what we can do about getting you back home. Now, there are other services we can offer you…do you think you’d benefit from any extra counselling?”

“No thanks,” I say quickly. “I don’t think either of us need therapy.”

“Keep it in mind anyway, and I’ll talk to Esme and Carlisle and get their thoughts on whether Alice could use the extra help.” Mara flips open a folder and check something inside. “We’ll be making appointments with a paediatrician for both of you, just to get a basic physical done, catch you up on any vaccines, that kind of thing. Is there a particular doctor you’ve seen previously?”

I shake my head. “We didn’t have a regular doctor. If we got sick Momma would take us to the walk-in clinic or the ER.”

“What about the dentist?”

“My grandma used to take me to her dentist. I don’t remember the name, but the office was opposite a toyshop…although that was a pretty long time ago.” I frown. I mustn’t have seen a dentist for around nine years, and I don’t think Alice has ever been in her life. I haven’t had any problems with my teeth, but it’s probably another black mark against Momma on Mara’s checklist.

“We’ll just make an appointment with the dentist our office usually work with then,” Mara says briskly. “It’s been great to catch up with you, but now I’m going to go and have a word with Esme and Edward and then go. You’ve got my numbers if you need me. I’ll see you Friday afternoon.”

I guess she wants Esme to have a chance to talk about us privately, so I say goodbye but don’t get up as Mara leaves the kitchen. I take a pencil and start doodling in my sketchbook, drawing a strawberry with legs as muscular as a bodybuilder.

“How many days until we see Mommy?” Alice asks softly.

“Today is Tuesday. So not tomorrow or the next day, the day after that.”

“Is she going to be mad? Or not feeling well?” I can hardly hear her.

“Momma isn’t going to be mad at you,” I say again, adding quietly. “And she should be feeling okay, because now that Mara’s around and the police are involved she’s not allowed to do some of the things she does that end up making her feel bad.”

Alice is sitting very still. “Like the bad smoking?”

She means crack or meth, which make Momma crazy and mean, as opposed to weed, which makes Momma spacey and means she usually buys pizza. Neither is exactly great, but I can understand why Alice differentiates. Heck, I do it too.

Damn it kills me that we’re even having this conversation!

“Yeah. Smoking and drinking and pills, all that stuff…Momma’s going to have to stop doing it so we can have visits and then go home.” I start drawing a bunch of kale.

“Esme and Carlisle don’t do any of those things.”

“Most people don’t; you know that.” I chew on my knuckles. “Momma…well, she’s going to stop now too, and once she’s clean we’ll be able to go home again. It will be different then.”

Alice gives me a look that seems a lot older than her five years, and doesn’t say anything else. I let the conversation drop and concentrate hard on making my kale look like kale rather than just generic leaves, not thinking about all the issues we’re still facing.

_Momma is going to stop doing all that shit. She has to…because what happens if she doesn’t?_

Later Alice does the usual bedtime routine with Esme and Carlisle- cleaning her teeth and brushing her hair, stories in bed and kisses and tucking her in. Despite all that, I’m not surprised to find her lying awake on my bed with the butterfly quilt when I go in to my room.

I put on the pyjamas that I’m starting to get used to and stretch out on the bed that’s starting to feel comfortably familiar, wondering briefly how long it will be until Alice decides she’s willing to sleep alone.

“Esme bought me something today,” Alice tells me hesitantly.

“Yeah?” I roll over and look at her. “What?”

“These.” Alice pulls down the waistband of her pyjama pants just enough to show me that she’s wearing a pull-up. “For just in case I have an accident. They’re not diapers,” she adds anxiously. “They’re for big kids, not babies.”

“Oh, for sure they’re not for babies,” I say hurriedly. “I think that’s a really good idea! You’ll stop having accidents soon, but just in the meantime this will take care of it.”

_Yes! No more waking up with wet sheets! Thank you Esme!_

Alice snuggles back down, obviously relieved that I approve of this state of affairs. “Esme is the nicest lady in the world,” she says with a yawn.

And when we wake up the next morning with a wet pull-up but dry pyjamas and dry sheets, I pretty much have to agree with her.


	20. Big and Scary and Beautiful

In the morning I tell Esme about the success of the pull-ups and thank her again for organising it that I don’t have to wake up in wet sheets. “And Alice told me she thinks you’re the nicest lady in the world.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Esme says with a giggle. “I didn’t want to push her into wearing them, but it will make for less laundry and it’s probably a lot nicer for you to not be waking up in a wet bed. Once I explained all that to her she was pretty agreeable to buying some and giving them a try.”

“The only reason she didn’t wear them all the time is that they’re so expensive,” I say honestly. “And she didn’t always wet the bed either, so Momma…she didn’t, um…” My voice trails off. I don’t want to talk about Momma’s reaction to Alice’s bed wetting. “Anyway, thank you. I mean, hopefully she doesn’t need them much longer, but for the time being it’ll make things easier.”

Alice and Edward come and sit up at the table, and Esme hands everyone a smoothie. “I’m driving you to school this morning, so I can come and pay for a gym uniform,” she tells me, standing behind Alice and beginning to brush her hair.

“I don’t mind not having one,” I say quickly. “Ms Blake let me play in regular clothes the other day.”

Esme shakes her head and gathers Alice’s hair into a ponytail. “You have to have one. There are sometimes second-hand ones available so we’ll check on that, but we’ll get you a new one if we need to.”

Carlisle leans towards me and says, “You really should stop worrying about us buying you things. We’re only buying you what you need, and I promise you that we have the money to do it, and we’re happy to do it too. We can get a reimbursement from the department for some expenses, or even apply for grants to help cover costs if it comes to that, so it’s really not something that you need to think about, okay?”

I mumble something non-committal and shrug; I hate feeling like I owe them so much.

Carlisle laughs a little. “Really Emmett…it’s fine. Just try being a kid for a while, and let us worry about it.”

Easy for him to say.

Carlisle heads off to the hospital, and Esme, Edward, Alice and I take the Mercedes to school. Alice clings to me as I follow Esme to the front office, and I hope that she leaves without making a scene like we’ve had the previous couple of mornings at home.

The gym uniforms are in a storage cupboard in the nurse’s office, but there aren’t any second hand ones that fit me. It’s a down side of being so tall. Esme doesn’t even blink as she pays for a new one that costs more than any other bit of clothing I own. How can a _t-shirt_ be so expensive?

“I want to see your classroom,” Alice says, still gripping the leg of my jeans.

“Okay.” I look at Esme to make sure it’s all right. “If you promise you won’t make a fuss when it’s time to go home you can come and see my locker and my homeroom, okay?”

“I wish we had lockers at my school,” Alice says when I show her how to use the combination lock. “This is so cool.” She spins the dial on the lock.

“Well I have to get to homeroom,” I say, “I’d better put all my stuff in my locker so it’ll be safe…” I push Alice into the locker and start closing the door, grinning as I hear her gleeful shrieks.

“No, you can’t shut me in!”

“What? Why won’t this door close? Maybe I just need to push harder…” I lean on the locker door, careful of Alice’s fingers hooked on the edge.

“Emmett, let me out!” Alice is laughing like a loon. “Let me out!”

“Hi Esme.”

It’s Rosalie’s voice. I turn quickly, letting go of the locker door so suddenly that it flies open and Alice falls out at my feet. Rosalie is standing there with her books, smiling in amusement.

Esme hugs her. “Hi Rosalie honey, how are you?”

I scoop Alice up from the floor and set her back on her feet. “Whoops! There you go…next time no hiding in lockers!”

“ _You_ get in!” Alice pushes ineffectively against my leg. “It’s your turn!”

Rosalie giggles. “Go on then, Emmett, get in.”

I’d do most things to make Alice happy, but folding my oversize self into a locker in front of Rosalie Hale is not one of them. I stand up straight and tug on Alice’s ponytail. “Nope, I’m way too big. Are you ready to go home now so I can go to class?”

Alice stubbornly shakes her head. “No. You said I could see your classroom.”

Feeling vaguely ridiculous, I let Alice accompany me across the hallway to the classroom door. “Here.”

“Oh.” Alice looks unimpressed. “That’s boring. There’s no posters or computers or a class pet or anything.”

I laugh. “Welcome to high school. Now the bell is going to ring in a minute, so I have to go in and you have to go home with Esme…remember, you promised you wouldn’t fuss!” I crouch down and she nearly knocks me over with the ferocity of her hug. “Good girl…I love you Monkey,” I whisper into her ear.

Alice’s eyes fill and her lip wobbles, but Esme says a cheerful goodbye and then takes her hand and leads her briskly away.

I give a sigh of relief and drop into the closest seat, feeling a little jump of happiness in my belly when Rosalie takes the chair beside me.

“Is that your sister? How old is she?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’s Alice…she’s five.”

“Did she transfer to Camden too?”

“No. She’s in first grade at the public elementary school.” I fiddle with my planner.

Rosalie curls length of hair around her finger. “You can tell me to go away if I’m asking too many questions,” she says bluntly. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“God, no!” I blurt out. I look up quickly, and our eyes lock. Hers are dark blue, and staring into them feels like falling. “I don’t…it’s not that! Ask as many questions as you want!”

Rosalie laughs a little breathlessly, and she doesn’t look away. “Are you sure? I do like to know everything about everything.”

God, I want to touch her…the long hair falling over her shoulders, the slightly pink roundness of her cheek, that perfect bow mouth curved up in a smile…this feels crazy. My teeth graze across my knuckles, but I don’t bite. “I don’t mind.”

“Can I ask about this then?” Rosalie’s fingers brush across my back of my hand, sending a peculiar ripple of pleasure up my spine. “The tape? Do you do MMA, or just street fight?” She raises one perfect eyebrow.

I laugh self consciously, feeling the heat of embarrassment burning my ears as I lift the edge of the tape. “Neither. My knuckles are just a mess, so I’m covering them up.” I hesitate for a moment. I don’t understand why I want to open up to this girl, but the fact is that I do. “I have a really gross habit of biting the skin over my knuckles when I get stressed…there’s been a lot going on lately.”

“I would hate to have to transfer schools in the middle of the semester. And whatever happened to cause you to move in with the Cullens is probably pretty difficult.” Rosalie looks at me steadily. “I’m not trying to pry or make you talk about it. But I know they do foster care so I’m guessing that that’s how come you’re there.”

My stomach knots with a feeling of shame that I know I shouldn’t be feeling. “Yeah,” I say with effort. “We’re at the Cullens through foster care. Alice got sick and went to hospital just the other weekend – Carlisle was her doctor – and they wouldn’t let us go home after that. Alice still isn’t totally well, so she’s staying home with Esme right now instead of going to school.”

“I’m sorry,” Rosalie says simply. “Having to live with a different family and change schools all at one time would really suck.”

“Yeah…it kind of does.” I grin at her, suddenly feeling lighter.

It’s so hard to say the words _foster care_ and admit that we’re not allowed to live with our mom at the moment! Acknowledging that there’s a problem at home is something that I have never, ever been allowed to do.

_You keep your mouth shut you little shit, you hear? If I hear you’ve been whining to anyone, there’ll be worse for you then, understand?_

_Do you want them to take her away? Because that’s what’ll happen if you talk about what’s none of their business…people won’t understand, and they’ll take her away and you’ll never see her again, and it’ll be all your own damn fault. Is that what you want?_

In my head I can still hear them saying it. But the truth is that Alice getting sick has pushed back that wall of secrecy and brought some of the dark, shameful things out into the light…and the worst things that I was always afraid of didn’t happen. Alice and I are still together, and even Momma seems motivated to change.

And now there’s Rosalie, and whatever this is that’s happening between us. Something that feels big and scary and beautiful all at the same time…something that makes me feel like anything could be possible.

“It’s hard,” I say with a slow smile her way. “But…it’s not all bad.”

________________________________________________________

Community groups are held after lunch on a Wednesday and for the time being I’m assigned to assist Mike Newton and Ben Cheney to run a game of wiffle ball in the gym.

“So what is this all about?” I ask a little doubtfully, watching Ben drag a bag of plastic bats out from the equipment room.

“Supposedly leadership and role modelling,” Ben says, dumping the bats in a corner and fetching a box of wiffle balls and a stack of orange cones. “Building strong school communities…that kind of thing.”

“And the teachers getting an afternoon to do their own thing,” Mike adds, dribbling a basketball out of the equipment room and shooting from the free throw line. He falls dismally short.

The gym door bangs open and Rosalie’s friend Vera, the short one with the pink hair, comes in wearing a cheerleading uniform. “Oh, well done! No wonder you’re teaching baby baseball instead of basketball!” She laughs mockingly and grabs for the ball, tossing it into the basket with confident ease. “See, that’s how it’s done.”

“Vera, are you going to help or what?”

I look up hastily and see Rosalie backing into the gym door, dragging a big plastic crate behind her and trying to keep a laptop bag and some speakers balanced on top of it.

“I’ll give you a hand.” I say, moving quickly across the gym. I hand her the speakers and the computer bag and grab the crate, trying not to ogle her – Rosalie in a blue and yellow Camden cheerleader uniform is something really worth looking at. “Where do you want it?”

“Over by those mats would be great.” Rosalie nods in that direction and takes a better grip on her speakers, giving me a grin. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I suppose you’re helping those clowns play wiffle ball?” She nods towards Mike, who is chasing Vera across the gym trying to get the basketball back, and Ben, who is neatly arranging some cones.

“Yeah. Ms Blake asked me what sports I liked and I said baseball…so now I’m playing wiffle ball with a bunch of first graders.” I shrug, but I don’t really mind. “You’re doing cheering then?”

“The first graders will be more mature than Mike at any rate,” Rosalie says, kneeling down and starting her laptop. “And yes, Vera and I are teaching some beginner cheering; mostly fourth graders.” She gets some music playing and adjusts the volume.

“Hey new boy,” Vera says breathlessly, abandoning Mike and bounding over to me. She grabs a couple of the mats leaning up against the wall and flips them down onto the floor. “Don’t tell me you’re hitting on my girl!” She makes kissy faces at Rosalie.

“The first graders are also more mature than Vera.” Rosalie rolls her eyes. “And his name is Emmett, remember?”

“Sure, sure,” Vera says cheerfully, grabbing another mat. “Just kidding Emmett; Rosalie’s her own agent, finally! Because remember Rosalie, when it comes to Royce we are never, ever, ever getting back together…sing it with me now…never, ever, ever…”

“Do you mind not talking about that right now?” Rosalie says sharply. “You know you don’t have to share every thought that flits through your mind, right?”

I catch the quick flash of her eyes my way, gauging my reaction, even though I bet she doesn’t want me to see it. There’s definitely a history with Rosalie and this Royce guy that could well be complicated, but all I’m taking from this conversation is that it’s over. And that knowledge, combined with the way she’s been looking at me, makes the whole day feel bigger with the possibilities.

Vera spreads out her hands. “Sorry! But you know….never mind! I’m stopping! Emmett, it’s splendid that you and Rosalie are becoming friends,” she says to me with exaggerated courtesy, before she sticks her tongue out at Rosalie. “Better, your majesty?”

“You’re hopeless!” Rosalie shakes her head and laughs as she finishes cuing her playlist and rises to her feet. She looks over at me with a slightly embarrassed smile. “Like I said Emmett, your first graders will probably be the most mature people in this gym.”

“Don’t tell me my senior students are behaving badly?” A teacher, a youngish looking woman wearing sports clothes and a whistle round her neck suddenly appears, helping Vera throw down more of the gym mats and push them together. “Can I really not leave you unsupervised for five minutes?” she jokes, before noticing me and raising her eyebrows. “Do I finally have a male cheerleader to help teach?”

“Me? No, I’m just….uh…” _Following Rosalie around like a puppy?_

“Emmett’s new,” Rosalie explains, grabbing her ankle and stretching her foot up over her head. “He’s going to play wiffle ball. Emmett, this is Miss Shannon, she’s our cheer coach and staff supervisor for these community groups.”

“Nice to meet you,” Miss Shannon says, and then turns as the door opens and I hear the excited noise of a bunch of little kids. “Okay folks, let’s get this show happening.”

_________________________________________________

I see Edward as I’m leaving school that afternoon, and I jog to catch up. “Hey, Edward!”

He stops and waits for me. “Hi. I see you got a gym uniform.”

Since I wore it last period for community groups and I hate showering at school, I left the uniform on to walk home. “Yeah, I’m playing wiffle ball for community groups.”

Edward laughs. “How did that go?”

“Oh, easy…they’re first graders, it’s like playing with a bunch of Alices.” I tug a little self-consciously at the new clothes. “When Esme says she’s going to do something she really does it.”

“You sound surprised,” he comments.

I laugh. “Consistency and follow-through aren’t really my mom’s good points…I’m not used to this!” I shake my head. “I mean, two weeks ago where was I? And now Carlisle and Esme have me working my ass off in the resource room at Camden and wearing a gym uniform. It’s a lot of change.”

“That’s certainly true.”

I glance at Edward. “For you as well though, I guess. Two weeks ago you had a nice, ordered life with your parents, and now you’ve got Alice and me barging in on your life and messing it up. I’m all up your ass at your school, and Alice is demanding piano lessons and making you build zoos and taking up all your mom’s attention.”

“I like Alice,” Edward says easily. “Why wouldn’t I want to teach her to play the piano? And to be quite honest, it’s occasionally a relief to have Esme and Carlisle’s attention placed elsewhere.”

That makes me laugh. “It seems like they should have had more kids, not just you.”

“They fostered a lot of kids over the years, mostly for a few weeks at a time, but occasionally for a couple of months. A year or so ago they came pretty close to adopting a little boy, but he ended up going back to his mother and it fell through. That was pretty devastating and they took a break after that…you and Alice are the first ones to stay in a while.” He glances at me. “I don’t have a problem with it. Remember, they adopted me too – the circumstances were different, but it pretty easily could have been me in foster care.”

“Well…thanks,” I say uncertainly, and the rest of the walk passes in a companionable silence.

_You’ve made space for me…I think I like you kid._


	21. A Surprise and a Visit

Alice wraps herself around me like an octopus when we walk in the front door, but at least she doesn’t cry and I’ll count that as a win.

“Hey Monkey, you have a good day?”

“Yes. I helped Esme at the church, and then we got Carlisle at the hospital and had lunch and went shopping. You have to go in your room, we got a surprise for you!” She grabs my hand and tows me through the kitchen and out to the room I’ve been sleeping in.

I stop in the doorway, staring. The Cullens’ spare room had been kind of a generically decorated guest room, with a pale blue quilt and matching curtains, some seascapes hung on the walls…nothing ugly, but nothing really notable either and nothing that made it feel like my room.

But now they’ve changed it. The quilt’s been replaced by some bright green striped bedding, there’s a matching rug on the floor, the knickknacks on the nightstand and the dresser are gone but there’s a new lamp and a simple grey blind has replaced the frilly curtains. The seascapes have been taken down, and in their place is a giant, empty corkboard that Carlisle is screwing into the wall.

“Do you like it?” Alice bounces into the middle of the bed. “I helped pick things! I said you like green…right?”

“Uh yeah, green is nice…” I feel dazed.

Esme comes over and hugs me. “I’ve been meaning to redo this room for ages, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. We also got you a desk so you’ll have a quiet place to do your homework in here, but that was thrifted and needs refinishing so it’s out in the garage.”

I mumble thank you, but she’s digging in a shopping bag and doesn’t hear me.

“I also bought you this.” Esme pulls out a photo frame. “It’s the right size for the photo of you with your mom and grandma that you have…this way if you want to put it out on display you can.”

“Can we have snack now?” Alice asks Esme. “Please?”

“Of course, let’s go and get it ready.”

The two of them head out of the room, and I grip the picture frame so hard that the timber flexes and close my eyes, trying to think of nothing but the pain in my knuckles as I bite down savagely.

_This isn’t my house I don’t belong here I want to go home stop doing this to me why are you making it so hard…_

“Emmett.” I hear Carlisle’s quiet voice. “Let’s talk about this.”

I open my eyes and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. My fist is bleeding hard enough that there’s a smear of blood on my lip…I look like a vampire, and I force myself to drop my hand away from my mouth. “I’m sorry, oh fuck…I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay.” Carlisle grabs a handful of tissue and wraps them around my fist, folding my hands around mine and squeezing. “It’s okay Emmett…I’m sorry we surprised you. We should have talked about it first.”

“I appreciate it, I really do, I mean it looks great and I’m really grateful and everything,” I gabble. “But…this isn’t my room. I don’t live here! I don’t…you’re being so good to me, but…this is too much, it’s not mine…”

And then I’m horrified to feel tears in my eyes and I’m just about _crying_ , and it’s such a mess all I want to do is run away.

“Come sit down.”

Carlisle pats the bed and sits beside me, still holding on my hand. The steady pressure feels good on my sore knuckles and I take a deep breath and try to pull it together.

“I’m sorry we didn’t discuss it with you first,” Carlisle says again. “Esme has wanted to redo the room for a while, and she thought it might help you feel more at home if it was a little bit more tailored to a teenager’s taste. Esme’s mother may have loved Dresden figurines, but that doesn’t mean you do.”

I laugh shakily. “Those fancy china ladies on the dresser? I was just scared I was going to break them.”

“I know that you want to go home,” Carlisle says quietly. “When Maddie meets the requirements of her action plan we’ll transition you back as quickly as we can. But realistically, that’s not going to happen for at least a few months.”

I don’t say anything, and a moment later he continues. “Your mom has to complete a parenting course and do rehab, and no one knows exactly how long that will take. She’s really going to have to prove that it’s safe for Alice to be in her custody, and that’s going to be a challenge because the situation was pretty dire when family services had to step in.”

 _Dire?_ “It wasn’t that bad,” I mumble. “It was just…life.”

Carlisle tightens his grip on my hands. “You did everything you could with what you had, and you saved Alice’s life when it mattered. _No one_ is suggesting that any part of this is your fault, or that there is something else that you should have done. But Emmett…you and Alice were living in a house without adequate food and with illegal drugs and unlicensed firearms dangerously accessible. You weren’t protected from people who wanted to hurt you or who treated you badly, and no one was making sure you had enough to eat, went to school regularly, or saw a doctor when you needed to...”

I open my mouth to object, but he beats me to the punch.

“I know you were doing those things to the best of your ability,” he says quickly. “But it shouldn’t have been your job. There is also enough physical evidence, combined with a few things that Alice has let drop, to make it obvious that there was physical abuse in the home too. And Emmett…that’s not ‘just life’. That’s not normal, and it’s not okay either.”

_Please don’t make me talk about this._

“I’m not asking you to talk about it,” Carlisle goes on like he can read my mind. “I know that you love your mom, and that this is the way you’ve lived for a long time and it seems normal to you. But you have to trust that Esme, Mara and I want the best for you and we’re doing what we can to make things better. For the time being, that means you and Alice staying in a safe place while Mara works with your mom. At the moment Maddie seems willing to do what she needs to do in order for you and Alice to go home, and that’s great. I genuinely hope that she can do it! But she has some big obstacles to overcome, and that’s going to take time.”

“You all say _it takes time_ , but no one will tell me how much time.”

Carlisle shakes his head. “Nobody knows for sure. But based on everything I know about the system we’re working with, you and Alice are going to be here for several months at least. Esme and I think it’s important for you and Alice to feel as secure and comfortable in this environment as you can.” He smiles sympathetically. “So I am sorry we didn’t talk about the room redecoration with you. It was a bit of a spur of the moment thing in the end. We’ve been talking about it for a few days, but Esme saw a desk in the thrift shop by the hospital that she thinks is perfect and so she wanted to buy it today rather than missing out. Alice jumped on board, and well…here we are.” He spread his hands helplessly.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like it,” I admit. “And I’ve never had a whole decorated room like this or anything even close…it just felt so permanent. Like it’s all part of a trap to keep me here.”

“No,” Carlisle smiles. “No trap, no sinister undertones. It’s yours while you need it, then it’s for whoever else might come along after you. Except for this.” He picks up the photo frame from the bed. “That’s for you to keep…you’ve got a great picture that’s obviously important to you, and you don’t want it to get damaged. Do you want me to put it in for you?”

I say yes, and he quickly releases the back of the frame and installs my photo. “There you go.”

In the photo I’m wearing a too-big baseball shirt and a cap backwards and have my bat slung over my shoulder. Momma is wearing something so skimpy I’m kind of embarrassed to look at her and a headband with cat ears, and my grandma is just wearing her regular overalls. “It was Halloween,” I say to Carlisle, my finger touching the picture through the glass. “I was seven and I wanted to be a baseball player. Momma was going out to a party, but she came trick or treating with me and Grandma for a while…it was really fun.”

I think I remember it so clearly because it was one of the last of the fun times for a long time, but I don’t tell Carlisle that. Momma met Christian at that Halloween party and things rapidly went downhill. By the following Christmas they were married and my grandma had died, and I had discovered that sometimes monsters were real and lived in your house.

“Everything would have been different if my grandma were still alive,” I say, carefully standing the photo up on the dresser. My baseball bat leans on the side of it, and looking around I really appreciate what Carlisle and Esme have done because this, just a little bit, feels like a home for me. “And really…thank you. This looks great. Although I have to ask, why such a giant corkboard?”

Carlisle laughs. “Esme was agonising over what to hang on the walls. Alice told her that you could draw better pictures than what she was looking at, and Esme had to agree with her. So we bought the corkboard so that you can hang up your own stuff.” He grins at me. “You’re talented Emmett- you should work at it, because there’s a lot you can do with that talent in the future. Although it would really help if you could leave your knuckles alone buddy…let’s get the first aid kit and take care of that.”

____________________________________________________

“Do you want me to come in?” Esme asks as she pulls into the parking lot opposite Mara’s office on Friday afternoon.

Alice and I are here for our first visit with Momma since social services pulled us out of home. It feels like years…I can’t believe it’s only been a couple of weeks.

“Nah, we’re good.” I reach into the back and unclip Alice’s harness. She’s brought her bunny from home and I have to yank it out of her hands before I can get her arms through the straps.

“Well, I’m going to do some grocery shopping while you’re visiting. You’ve got your cell phone Emmett? You can call me earlier if you need to, otherwise I’ll be back in an hour,” Esme says.

I touch my pocket to make sure the phone’s there. I’ve only ever used it to call Momma and I’m still not used to carrying it around. “Okay. We’ll see you later.”

Esme watches until Alice and I are at the top of the steps going into the office. It’s only when I’ve opened the door and shooed Alice inside and then waved to her that Esme waves back and drives away.

I don’t know what I was expecting- probably all harsh lighting and institutional grey. But I’m pleasantly surprised by how bright and comfortable the reception area is, with posters on the wall and a community noticeboard, some well-worn sofas and a scatter of toys on a rug.

Mara comes out of her office to meet us. “Hi guys,” she says cheerfully. “Your mom’s not here quite yet, so I’ll give you a quick tour. This is Helen on reception – I won’t always be here when you have visitation, so Helen’s the one to talk to if you have any issues. We’re setting up a permanent visitation schedule for you on Friday afternoons, but if you need to cancel or want to let us know you’ll be late, you’ll talk to Helen here on the desk.” Mara leans over the counter and picks up a business card that she hands to me. “Here are her numbers…do you have a cell phone? Esme and Carlisle said they were organising something.”

I nod in the affirmative, and Mara keeps talking. “Great- make sure you put all the numbers in there for me, the office here…and if I can grab the number from you so that I can call you directly? Okay, my office is just over there…this is the kitchen for our families, there are facilities for tea and coffee, a microwave, there’s a fruit bowl that you can help yourself to if you’re hungry…bathroom is at the end of the hall…we have a few different rooms for families to spend time in together, you guys get the Daisy room today.”

The door is glass and has a laminated daisy taped to it, and the room I can see through it is small. There’s a loveseat, a couple of mismatched chairs, a tiny coffee table and a small desk, as well as a bookcase holding a bunch of books, some boards games, and baskets of toys.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Mara says. “You can play with anything in here Alice, and if there’s anything else you need or want just come out to the desk and ask. Your mom will be here any minute, so we’ll send her down right away.”

Mara leaves, and I flop down in the loveseat and look across at Alice. She’s gripping her bunny in two hands and hasn’t said a word. “Did you want to look at what they have for you to play with?”

She doesn’t answer, but she goes to the bookshelf and comes back to me a minute later with a dog-eared picture book. “I want you to read this one.”

I hate reading aloud, but I figure it won’t be for long. However it’s twenty minutes and three books later before I finally hear Momma coming down the hall.

“Emmett, Alice!” She comes in and grabs us, both of us at the same time even though she’s so tiny and I’m so big that the three of us can hardly fit. “How are you?”

“We’ve been waiting and waiting,” Alice says accusingly. “Emmett read three whole books.”

“Who cares?” I say hastily, glaring at Alice. _Give it a rest, Monkey!_

“Oh yeah, I’ve been helping Nat move her shit in so time got away,” Momma said vaguely, prowling around the room.

“Nat’s moving in to our house?” I ask flatly.

“I said she would, you wouldn’t believe what an asshole her landlord is being about her lease and the security deposit…” Momma fidgets. “I don’t suppose they let you smoke in here.”

“I doubt it.” The tension in my belly is changing to a heavy feeling of foreboding. “How long is Nat going to be there? Do you know that having her there might make things more difficult with social services?”

“Just til she finds a better place,” Momma says irritably. “And since she sure as shit doesn’t want to live with you two kids she’ll be gone before they let you back home, so social services doesn’t even have to worry about it.”

I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.

“But it’s just Nat?” I persist. “Not that guy she was seeing? Not some of your other friends?”

“No!” Momma exclaims. “Fucking hell Emmett, check yourself…it’s my fucking house and I’ll let whoever I want move in! Don’t worry about it so much, I’m still keeping your bedroom for you – I want you back as much as you want to come home.” She comes and brushes my hair back off my face and kisses my forehead. “So…you doing okay?”

Her change in mood is so fast and so complete that it leaves me spinning. “Yeah.”

“What about you kiddo?” Momma says to Alice. “You okay?”

Alice nods. “I’m going to go back to school next week.”

“Have you been out sick this whole time?”

Alice nods again, and I say a little edgily, “She wasn’t in hospital because she took too much Tylenol. It was serious.”

“She looks all right now,” Momma says casually, pulling Alice to her and giving her a hug. “No big deal.”

It _is_ a big deal. Alice overdosing herself on Momma’s shit is the whole reason that we’re in this situation in the first place! How can she just brush it off like this?

“And you kids are probably living it up with that family,” Momma adds. “If he’s a doctor they’ve got to have money…must be a nice life I bet!”

“Their house is much bigger than ours, and it’s all clean like on tv,” Alice says candidly. “And they have so much food that it never runs out, and a fancy car with a screen in it, and a cat and a piano, and…and _everything_.”

I see the look of stubborn defiance Alice gives Momma and the Momma narrows her eyes in return, and I jump to my feet and say hastily, “Hey, how about we play a game or something? They’re got checkers, or Uno, or Sorry…any takers?”

“Sorry!” Alice shouts with a giggle. Momma agrees to play too, and with a sigh of relief I get the box down and start setting up, crossing my fingers that we’ll get the rest of the visit done without incident.


	22. Now and the Future

“Time’s up guys,” Mara says, knocking on the door and poking her head round. “Had a good visit?”

“It’s fucking rubbish, is what it is,” Momma says aggressively. “Supervised visitation…it’s a joke!”

“I understand your frustration, but this is the way it is for now,” Mara says calmly. “We just need to remember that we’re all here for Emmett and Alice and what’s best for them.”

“What’s best for them would be to be their own fucking home,” Momma snarls. “I should just take them back with me right now – I don’t have to put up with this shit.”

Staring at Momma and Mara Alice backs away, ending up against the bookcase. I concentrate on replacing the game pieces back in the box and don’t look at either of them. We’ve been having a good time together… _Momma, please don’t ruin this now._

“Alice and Emmett are legally in care, and you can’t take them anywhere right now,” Mara says simply. “It’s hard to say goodbye at the end of a visit; but we’ve talked about this Maddie, and I know you understand how important it is that we follow the rules of the care plan.”

Momma isn’t happy with this answer, but she doesn’t really have much option but to just say goodbye and leave on her own. Mara sees her to the front door and then turns to Alice and me. “How was it seeing your mom again? Did it all go well? Any problems?”

I wonder if Mara ever stops talking and asking questions. “Yeah, it was fine.”

“What about you, Alice? Was it good to have a visit with Mommy?”

Alice has plastered her face to the front window and is gazing anxiously out onto the street, her bunny in hand. “Where’s Esme? She said she would come at the end of the visit and she’s not here! What if she doesn’t come back?”

I feel like I could literally lie down on the grubby rug in the reception area and go to sleep right now, I am so exhausted by all this drama. “She’s coming back.”

“But she’s not here! What if she forgot?” Alice insists. “What if she doesn’t want us to live at her house anymore?” She sounds almost panicked.

“Monkey, come on,” I sigh. “Esme likes having us live at her house, and she’ll be here any minute to pick us up.”

_Although right now, I have to wonder why she would bother._

“Don’t worry Alice, I just sent Esme a text to say that you’re all ready for her to come and collect you. She’ll only be another minute,” Mara says reassuringly to Alice before she looks over at me. “I thought I’d give your mom a chance to leave first. We like to encourage good relationships between our birth parents and foster parents, but considering how early in the process we are, and also taking into account that your mom isn’t really pleased with the situation, we’re just taking it slow. Esme and Maddie can talk another day.”

“But how long?” Alice demands, looking from the window back to Mara. “Is she still at the grocery store? Does she still have to pay? Or is she putting the bags in the car, or is she driving…Esme!” Breaking off in the middle of her whining, Alice flings open the door as Esme comes walking up the steps. “You came to take me home!”

“Of course I did, sweetheart,” Esme says, kneeling down so Alice doesn’t bowl her over with her enthusiastic hug. “I went and did the grocery shopping while you were spending time with your mommy, and then I read my book and waited in the car until Mara texted me. Just like I said I would. Did you have a nice visit?”

Alice wraps her arms more tightly around Esme. “We played Sorry.”

“That sounds like it would have been fun.” Esme gives up on trying to disentangle Alice and stands up with her in her arms. “What about you Emmett?”

I shrug. “Yeah.” I just want to get out of here.

I’m quiet on the ride back to the Cullens. Alice talks enough that I think it’s probably not too noticeable, but I should know by now that Esme notices everything. As I head around to the trunk of the Mercedes to the groceries, Esme wraps me up in a hug for moment.

“Let me know if there’s something you need, or want me to do,” she whispers, before quickly releasing me and turning back to the car.

For a wild moment I want to just throw myself at her and bawl my eyes out like Alice does. _I thought it would be so good to see Momma again…but that was really hard._ But even though I know Esme probably wouldn’t even mind if I did, I’m not ready to let myself go like that. So I silently haul groceries inside, and as soon as I can I escape to my room.

Alice doesn’t follow. It takes me ten minutes of lying on my bed and still being unable to relax before I realise that I’m subconsciously waiting for her to freak out and come to join me, and she hasn’t. I get up and move silently along the hall, stopping once I see Alice in the kitchen, wearing an apron and standing on a stool while she chops vegetables with Esme. _She’s fine._ Before she can see me I bolt back to my room, closing the door behind me and falling across the bed, burying my face in a pillow.

_Thank you God, I’m alone._

But the thing is, now that I’m by myself, now that I’m not putting on a brave face for Alice, not trying to make everything seem okay for her…

_This is too fucking HARD._

I don’t want to cry now. All I can feel is the dullest, most oppressive feeling of unhappiness because none of this is going away. Momma has fucked everything up for all of us and she’s the only one who can fix it, and she has never, ever been reliable…so what makes me think she’s going to do the right thing now?

Even today’s visit. She was twenty minutes late, told me that she’s moving her best junkie friend in to our house, and mouthed off to Mara. In what world is that doing what she has to do for Alice and me to come home? Does she even give a shit?

I’m not sure I want to think about the answer.

I shuffle through the cds Edward gave me and eventually find something that fits my mood; all angry guitars and bitter drum solos. It occurs to me that for someone who spends most of his free time playing classical piano Edward really does seem to like rock guitar, and I can’t stop a grin at the idea of preppy Edward in an alternative rock band.

The thought of it cheers me up a little, and I reach across and bring my sketchbook and pencils up on to the bed. I finally managed to make a note on the spelling of Rosalie’s name during art earlier in the day, and I’ve been itching to write it out. My life might be a shitshow, but if there’s one thing that at least takes my mind off all the problems it’s drawing, so I tap my pencil in s a brief drum solo to accompany the cd and then draw a bold, swooping capital R. _Rosalie._

I’m still working on it an hour or so later, carefully inking a border of twisted vines and blood red roses when I hear a knock on the door. It’s been such a good name to work with, containing a capital R and a lower case s and i which are all some of my favourite letters, as well as the whole rose thing, that I’ve actually completely forgotten that it’s a name. It’s only when Carlisle enters the room and I catch the quick grin on his face as he reads it, that I realise what this must look like.

“Esme said you’d met Rosalie,” Carlisle says casually, like me spending an hour writing her name out isn’t the most embarrassing thing he’s caught me doing. And considering he’s been doctoring my hands after I chew on them like a dog with a bone, that’s really saying something.

Although Carlisle is wearing the new set of scrubs Esme made him, with the neon purple and pink cat print that Alice chose, so in terms of who looks ridiculous in this situation I think there’s a pretty strong argument to be made that it’s him.

“She’s in some of my classes,” I mumble. “She said you and her parents are friends.”

Carlisle nods. “Her dad was my college roommate. I was actually there when Rosalie was born- it was one of my earliest paeds rotations and I was called in to an emergency c-sec to take care of a baby. It wasn’t until she was pink and screaming in my hands that I realised she was Jack and Lily’s girl.” He chuckles, and then looks at my paper again. “Don’t be embarrassed by the way, that looks brilliant. You should show her; Rosalie would love it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I say, capping my pen and carefully tearing the page out of the sketchbook. I’m too embarrassed to show her and want to make sure she doesn’t see it accidently, but it’s pretty good…I consider for a moment and then pin it to the bottom of the corkboard.

“When did you start doing the lettering?” Carlisle asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking at the newly revealed page of my sketchbook on which I’ve written the alphabet out in two different fonts.

“My grandma started doing it to help me with spelling words when I was a little kid. We did different styles, and made the words have different shapes and pictures to go with them; I was still a shitty speller, but it helped! I just kept doing it, especially with people’s names nowadays… names are like the worst things in the world for me to spell.” I laugh a little self-consciously, refraining from mentioning that the spelling of his name has me utterly baffled. What the hell is _C-A-R-L-I-S-L-E?_

“Your grandma must have been a pretty smart lady,” Carlisle says. “That’s one of the techniques a teacher who knew about your dyslexia might have used to teach you.”

“She was really smart, and she really wanted me to do well in school. Momma dropped out when she had me, and Grandma always said Momma had wasted her chances.” I fiddle with some of the spare pins for the corkboard.

“How was your mom today?” Carlisle asks. “How did the visit go?”

In answer I hold up my fists and show him my knuckles, and Carlisle winces. “That good, huh?”

I drop my hands and sigh, leaning back against the dresser so I don’t have to look at the photo of Momma, Grandma and me. “No, it honestly wasn’t that bad. Momma seemed pretty happy to see us, and she and Alice didn’t fight so that was good.”

Carlisle nods but doesn’t say anything, and the silence and time give me space to say hesitantly, “But it wasn’t…wasn’t great either. I’ve been waiting and really wanting to see Momma again, and I don’t think...it didn’t…” I struggle to find the words.

“It wasn’t what you were hoping for?” Carlisle asks gently.

I shake my head. “Momma was late, which I should have expected; she never gets anywhere on time. And then she told me…” I pause. “Do you just go and tell Mara everything I tell you? Do you have to?”

“That’s actually a kind of complicated question,” Carlisle admits. “As a doctor I’m a mandated reporter- we called the police and family services as soon as we had Alice stabilised in the ER. Now that you’re on their case files and I’m your foster dad it’s something of a judgement call – I have to report illegal activities and serious breaches of the custody orders, but most things you and I would talk about can be kept just between us.” He rubs his chin. “I won’t lie to you Emmett, it’s a complicated situation and there’s no hard and fast rule. But I can promise you that I will never go behind your back – if you tell me something in confidence I will do my best to keep it between us. If there is ever a situation where you tell me something that I think Mara needs to know, I will not talk to her without talking to you about it first. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say slowly. Weirdly enough, even though his answer basically boils down to the fact that he’ll tell Mara if he has too, I feel more confident about talking to him after he’s admitted it. He is straightforward and honest about his intentions, and that’s reassuring.

“It’s not anything really bad anyway,” I say in a rush. “But Momma told me her friend Nat is moving in with her, and I think that’s a really bad idea when she’s supposed to be doing everything right so Alice and I can go home.” My knuckles go to my mouth, but I see Carlisle watching me and I immediately fold my hands behind my back. “I don’t understand how Momma doesn’t see what a stupid thing this is to do! The only reason she and Nat are even friends is because they both like getting wasted!”

“It doesn’t sound ideal,” Carlisle agrees cautiously.

“Nat’s the one who first bought Mark around, and most of her other friends aren’t a lot better…well, they’re Momma’s friends too I guess.” I risk a quick, shamed glance Carlisle’s way, but his face is neutral as he listens to me. “I know Momma makes a lot of mistakes and does a lot of stupid shit. I know that, and I admit that it’s all got pretty bad…well, that’s why Alice and I are here, isn’t it? Cause Momma fucked up. But I really thought she wanted to fix things, and then today…” I shrug helplessly.

“It’s probably going to be pretty hard for your mom to turn it all around,” Carlisle says slowly. “Sometimes just getting started is the hardest part…she might be struggling just to figure out how to begin. Mara is going to help her though, and I know that there will be some home visits to see what progress Maddie’s made there in getting it ready for you and Alice. If this friend isn’t a good influence, as you say, then Mara will talk to her about it.”

“It’s just so frustrating! Nat moving in is never going to work out…there’s no way it can! And Momma just doesn’t see…” I shift restlessly. “And what if she doesn’t fix it? What if she doesn’t follow the care plan? What happens to Alice and me then?”

This time I don’t care that he’s watching when I feel my teeth on my skin again…better think about that pain than about all the hurt that’s buried a lot deeper inside.

“Maddie has to meet the requirements of the care plan for you and Alice to be allowed to go back home. Until she does that, you and Alice will stay here.”

“But what if it takes a really long time? Or if she _doesn’t_ do what she has to do?” The questions burst out of me, and it’s hard to say whether I really want to hear the answers or not.

“You and Alice have a home here for as long as you need it,” Carlisle says. “Esme and I have discussed it between ourselves, with Edward and with Mara, and we’re committed to this for the long haul Emmett. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, as long as you and Alice are in care you’re going to be with us. Six months, a year, longer than that…we’re here for you.” He pauses. “As for Maddie _not_ meeting the care plan, well we really don’t need to worry about that yet. If she does end up facing child neglect or endangerment charges that could change the plan, but it’s only been a couple of weeks – don’t write your mom off yet.”

“But…”

Carlisle must see the frustration on my face, because after a moment’s thought he continues. “Really Emmett, you don’t need to worry about that now; your mother will be given a lot of time to work things out. But if it helps you feel better to know all the potential outcomes…well, if parents fail to meet the expectations, the department may eventually move to terminate parental rights and free the child for adoption. As I said though, that’s a really long way down the track and absolutely not something you should give much thought to now. Okay?”

“Okay.” For some reason, knowing the worst outcome makes me feel better. And knowing that this situation here with the Cullens is as permanent as it’s going to get…well, that’s good. I feel the tight ache of tension in my belly ease a little. “Thank you. I know Alice and I are pretty much pains in the ass, but it’s really…really good here, so…thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Carlisle says, standing up and stretching. “Now, how about we go and find the first aid kit and I can do something about your hands before dinner?”


	23. Working it Out

“Emmett look, I’m making dinner!” Alice says when Carlisle and I go into the kitchen. She’s standing at the counter, sprinkling something into a pan. “Esme let me chop some vegetables and showed me how to make a dessert. It’s a…what is it called again?” she asks Esme.

“Apple crumble,” Esme says.

“Yeah, apple crumble.” Alice echoes. “Now what do we do?” She leans against Esme and gazes up at her adoringly.

“Now we’ll set the table.”

Carlisle and I are both sitting at the table while he does his doctor thing to my hands, so Alice lays out cutlery around us. “You’re in the way,” she says to me disapprovingly, and I laugh at the difference from not wanting me to be any further away than her fingertips to being cross that I’m in her space at all.

Edward has been playing the piano all this time. I’m even starting to recognise some of the pieces he’s been practising regularly– not that I know the names or anything, but I find myself listening for the next twiddly bit or dramatic noisy bit that I know is coming up. But he’s playing gently now, not even looking at any music, just improvising. It’s such a different background noise to the constant tv we had at my house, and I’m surprised to find how much I’m learning to like it.

As Carlisle is finishing up with my knuckles, Esme’s phone rings. I don’t pay any attention until I hear my name, and then look up as she passes it across to me with an amused look. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

I’ve got no idea as I take the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Rosalie. I hope you don’t mind that I called Esme to reach you – I don’t even know if you have a phone.”

“No, I don’t mind…”

Rosalie sounds like she’s trying not to laugh. “Actually, I’m really sorry about this…is Esme looking at you right now with a really innocent look? As though there’s not the remotest possibility in the whole world that she’s mentally turned this phone call into a path that leads to her arranging our wedding?”

I look at Esme…Rosalie’s description is so accurate it’s quite frightening really. “Um yes. She is actually looking exactly like that.”

Now Rosalie’s really laughing. “Damn, and here I thought she’d given up on me when she finally accepted that I was never going to marry Edward. Sorry Emmett, I’ve probably thrown you in it here.”

I laugh too, not even caring that everyone else is watching me. _She called me. Rosalie called me._ “I’ll live.”

“Is it Mommy?” Alice is leaning against Esme, her hands creeping up to twist the hem of Esme’s shirt. “Is Mommy on the phone?”

I shake my head. “No Monkey. It’s Rosalie, my…friend.”

_My friend…I’ll take that._

Alice scowls and I turn away, focussing my attention back on to Rosalie. “I have a loaner phone from Carlisle. I can’t remember the number, but I’ll give it to you when I see you if you want.”

“Okay.” Rosalie hesitates for a moment. “Look, I’m just calling because there’s a school football game tomorrow, and there’s a group of us that usually get together afterwards and hang out somewhere. It’s not a big deal, but it’s at my house tomorrow and I thought…well, you could come, if you wanted.” For the first time since I met her, Rosalie’s perfect self-assurance falters and I hear the strain of doubt in her voice. “I don’t know if that’s your kind of thing at all, but I thought I’d ask…”

“No, I’m glad you did,” I blurt out. “That would be great, I would really like to come, I’m just not sure if I can…what exactly did you have in mind?”

I hear Rosalie’s quick breath of relief, and can’t stop the feeling of warmth. _She’s not as cool as she seems. Whatever is happening here…she feels it too._

“I’m cheering so I can’t really hang out during the game, but if you’re there I can give you a ride to my house afterwards. Or if you’re not a football fan you can just come over whenever,” Rosalie says. “Do you drive? I can drive you home afterwards, but that might be kind of late by the time I get rid of everyone. Or you could walk I guess- it’s a pretty long hike back to the Cullens from my place, but it’s doable.”

“Okay, hang on a sec.” I turn back to the Cullens. “Rosalie is having people over to her house after the football game tomorrow, and she invited me to come. I thought if it was okay, I might go…”

“No!” Alice abandons Esme and grabs at me. “You don’t go anywhere! You stay here with me!”

I try to be reasonable. “Look, Monkey…”

“No!” Alice has gone from zero to tantrum in the blink of an eye and is sobbing as she tries to grab the phone out of my hand. “No Emmett, no! Only school, you said only school and you have to stay here! Or I could come too,” she bargains desperately. “I could come with you…”

Realising Rosalie must be able to hear all these hysterics I forcibly hold Alice at arm’s length and bring the phone back to my mouth. “Rosalie? I’ll call you back, okay?” I don’t wait for an answer before I disconnect the call. “Alice! For the love of god, will you stop!”

Alice crawls onto my lap and keeps bawling, and for a moment I want to join her. I am just so freaking _tired_ …when is it going to get easier?”

“Forget about it Monkey,” I say wearily. “It doesn’t matter…I’ll stay with you.” I can’t leave her. The last time I left her when I should have been looking after her she nearly died…I can’t do it again.

“How about we all calm down and we can talk about this?” Carlisle says reasonably. “I’m going to go and wash my hands for dinner. Alice, you come with me.” Ignoring her hiccupping tears he takes her hand and the two of them disappear off to the bathroom.

“So the football game tomorrow, and then Rosalie’s house?” Esme asks. “We’ll work it out Emmett, it would do you good to spend some time out with friends.” She begins serving up lasagne.

I shake my head. “Look, it really doesn’t matter. She’s not ready…”

Alice comes back and pushes her chair at the table right against mine. Her eyes are red, and she looks pale and almost beyond exhausted as she rests her head against my arm. Coming on top of the stress of visiting Momma this afternoon, this is too much. I can’t leave her.

Edward joins us at the table as Carlisle passes out plates, and then he and Esme sit down too.

“So let’s work this out.” Carlisle smiles at Alice. “Have you ever been to a football game?”

Alice eyes him warily. “No.”

“Well the team from Emmett and Edward’s school is playing a game tomorrow, and I thought it might be fun if we went and watched,” he says to her, glancing over at Esme and waiting for her to nod. “We could all go, and then afterwards Emmett can go out with friends for a little while.”

“Emmett…” Alice’s eyes well up with tears.

I shrug helplessly. “I don’t have to…”

“I really think you should,” Esme says, and in her nice way she’s being as firm as I’ve ever heard her. “We’ve been talking a lot about getting into a regular routine and making this all feel like a safe, normal life…well, this is part of it too.” She looks directly at Alice. “I know you want Emmett to stay home with you, sweetie, but he needs to do some things by himself too. So tomorrow we’ll all go the football together, and then Emmett will go to Rosalie’s house for a little while before he comes home. Carlisle and I will be with you the whole time until Emmett comes back. And he _will_ come back. Okay?”

Alice gives the tiniest, almost imperceptible, nod.

“That’s great!” Esme says with genuine enthusiasm. “Do you like football Emmett? I love it, and unfortunately Carlisle and Edward are not really the biggest fans.” She makes a face across the table at Carlisle, and I can’t help laughing.

“Sure, I like football okay.”

“I think you’ll like it too, Alice,” Esme says cheerfully. “There’s lots of action, and there’s cheerleaders doing tricks, and everyone is excited and having fun…”

“And it’s the only time that Esme doesn’t care about eating vegetables,” Edward tells Alice solemnly. “At the football you can eat hotdogs and burgers and have as much soda as you want.”

He winks at me, and I have to love the guy because that’s what it takes. Alice perks up right away.

“Really? As much as I want?” If there is one thing that I know Alice misses from home, it’s junk food.

Esme laughs. “Yes! Everyone has to have a vice, and concession stand food is mine!”

“And we’ll all go?” Alice checks, looking around the table and waiting for each of us to nod. Even Edward shrugs and says he’ll come. “You and you and you and you? Everybody?” She sounds amazed, and I have to acknowledge that weekend family outings have not exactly been a prominent theme in her life.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Carlisle says. “Eat some lasagne now though Alice.”

Alice puts a tiny shred of pasta on her fork. “Is it like the football on tv? Mark likes to watch that.”

“No one is inviting Camden to join the NFL,” Edward says dryly. “But it’s kind of like that.”

“Will there be so much yelling?” Alice looks suddenly frightened. “I don’t want…”

“People cheer for their team,” Carlisle starts, but I cut in without looking at him.

“There won’t be yelling Alice. Not like…not like what you’re thinking.”

There’s a deeply awkward silence and after a moment I say tightly, “Mark has his friends over to watch sometimes. They can get…rowdy.”

“Well, I think we’ll have a great time tomorrow,” Esme says brightly, doing her best to change the subject. “It should be fun. Now eat up everyone…don’t forget we have apple crumble for dessert.”

_____________________________________________________

I don’t call Rosalie until much later. Dinner takes a long time, and although Alice is excited about going to the football now she’s still not happy that I’m going to be going somewhere without her and is clingy and tearful. It’s only once she’s asleep, curled up under her blanket on my bed with me sitting right beside her and leaning against the headboard, that I take a deep breath and call Rosalie back.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s me…Emmett.”

“I know your voice.” I can almost hear the smile. “Are you calling from your phone now? It was a new number.”

“Yeah.” I feel unaccountably shy. “It’s not too late? I’m sorry about before.”

“Oh don’t worry about it!” Rosalie says quickly. “It’s really not a big deal if you can’t come, I just thought I’d ask, in case you wanted to…but it doesn’t matter.”

“No, I’m going to come!” I take a deep breath. It’s crazy, Rosalie has never done a thing to make me trust her except smile at me…and somehow that’s enough. “I really want to…but Alice is having a really hard time adjusting to being here and when she heard me say I wanted to go out she panicked that I was going to leave her alone. I had to talk it through with her, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” Rosalie said quietly. “I did wonder what was going on; she sounded really upset.”

I sigh. “She doesn’t want me out of her sight for more than a second; I have to peel her off my leg to leave for school. Actually she’s beside me right now, asleep in my bed which she pretty much considers hers as well at this point.” I end with a laugh.

Rosalie laughs a little too. “That sounds hard for you though.”

“I can’t deny I’d rather have a bed to myself, but it could be worse,” I say lightly. _Hey, at least she’s got pull ups on now…it WAS worse._ “She’s freaking out about the idea of me leaving her a lot since we’ve been here at the Cullens, but I was pretty much taking care of her before that anyway. I’m kind of used to her being my shadow.” In the dim room I reach down and touch Alice’s hair, which is as soft as kitten fur. “Things with my mom have been…not great…for a while.”

“Do you know when you’ll be able to go home?”

“Not anytime soon.” I bite my knuckles and then say hurriedly, “It’s drugs you see, with my momma…I mean, there’s a lot of other stuff too, but…mostly drugs. Momma uses a lot, and Alice ended up taking some shit that was left lying around – she had to go to hospital and they called family services, and I called Esme because I didn’t know anyone else to call. I knew Esme from the church; I didn’t know that Carlisle was her husband or that he was Alice’s doctor, and I didn’t know anything about foster care either. But the social worker turned up at the hospital and said that I wasn’t allowed to go home, so Esme and Carlisle said that they’d take us.”

“Wow, that’s really awful. I’m sorry,” Rosalie says. “Is Alice okay after that? What’s happening with your mom now?”

“Alice basically had a massive overdose of something, or more than one thing, that we don’t really know. But she had some seizures, and a bleed on her brain…it was pretty bad.” My stomach lurches as I remember, again, how close she came to dying. “Carlisle says she’s doing great now though. They’re still monitoring her pretty closely because no one is sure what lasting damage there might be, but she’s doing really well. As for Momma, she’s going to go to rehab and take care of a few things at home before Alice and I can go back.” I exhale. “Talking about this feels so weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t talk about this shit. Not ever. Calling Esme and telling her what had happened to Alice, telling her even just a tiny bit about what was happening at home, that was the first time in years I’d ever told anyone anything. Now look at me, spilling my guts to some random girl…” I laugh, feeling surprisingly light.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended by being called a random girl, or flattered that you’re talking to me seriously,” Rosalie says.

“Flattered,” I say, feeling a rush of heat to my face. “Definitely flattered.”

“Well in that case…I’m flattered,” Rosalie says quietly. Even over the phone the air between us feels charged. “So, I _will_ see you tomorrow?”

“For sure. Esme and Carlisle are going to take us all to the game, apparently, and if it’s okay I’ll catch a ride with you afterwards?” I say.

“I’ll look for you. Or you can look for me- I’ll be in a cheerleading uniform, it’s supposed to stand out,” she says teasingly.

“I’ll find you.” I grab a pillow and tuck it behind me, sliding down until I’m stretched out next to Alice. “So, I’ve told you a whole lot of stuff here…do I get to ask you a question now?”

“I suppose you can,” Rosalie sounds guarded. “What do you want to know?”

“I’ve heard a few things about you and that Royce guy at school,” I say candidly. “I’m not asking for details, but I do want to know if you’ve got something going on with him. I’m being straight with you here Rosalie - I want to see you tomorrow and get to know you better, but I don’t think I can deal with anymore bullshit drama in my life right now. So if you’re seeing someone, I’ll just back off now.”

I don’t know if I’m being too blunt. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be flirting and hinting and circling around the issues…but right now, I can’t do that. I’m not into playing games, and I’m too goddamned tired to even try.

“No - things with Royce and I are over,” Rosalie says emphatically. “ _Really_ over…I am so done with that shit.” She hesitates for a moment. “Look Emmett, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me. I do know that people love to talk…but they don’t always get it right. Royce and I have a history, yes, but we’re through.”

“That’s all I wanted to know,” I say, glad she can’t see the stupid grin on my face.

“What about you?” Rosalie turns it around on me, her voice light. “How many girls did you leave behind when you switched schools?”

“Oh loads. A whole long string of them…” Beside me Alice mumbles something in her sleep and snuggles up more closely against my side, and I laugh gently. “Seriously Rosalie…there wasn’t anyone. The only girl in my life is currently a cat-obsessed five year old who still sucks her thumb. So…that’s where I’m at.”

_And frankly, I’ve got no damned idea what I’m doing when it comes to this stuff…but you make me want to work it out._


	24. A Family Day

“Oh Emmett, don’t you have anything warmer?” Esme stops packing snacks and water bottles into a knapsack and looks at me worriedly. “It’s cold out there today and we’ll be sitting out to watch the game; do you have a jacket?”

I’m wearing my blue hoodie, which probably falls on the wrong side of ‘well-worn’. “No, this is all I’ve got. I’ll put an extra t-shirt on underneath, I’ll be fine.”

Esme doesn’t look convinced. “I’ll see what I can find.”

She heads off towards her bedroom, coming back in a few moments with a black zip up fleece jacket that she hands to me. “Try this on; it’s one of Carlisle’s, but I think it will fit.”

“I’ll really be fine,” I protest, even as I pull on the fleece and zip it up. It’s slightly tight across the shoulders, but the fleece is stretchy enough that it’s not uncomfortable. “Doesn’t Carlisle want it? It’s not like it’s snowing or anything…I really don’t need it.”

“He has others,” Esme says briskly. “You keep that one for the moment.”

Alice, wearing a winter coat, boots and sparkly jeans that all came from the church, eyes me disapprovingly and says sternly, “You have to wear what Esme _says_.”

“Okay…thank you Esme.” Truth is, I’m not really protesting - it looks cold outside and the fleece is, like everything the Cullens own, better than anything I have. Hanging out in the cold all day has never killed me but it’s also not like it’s fun; I’m not going to do it if there’s another option.

“We’ll might have to go shopping for winter clothes this week,” Esme says musingly, as she packs the last things into the knapsack. “You don’t really have anything cold weather appropriate Emmett, and Alice needs more. I’ll have to get Edward to check what he needs too; I think he’s grown since last year.”

Carlisle comes in to the kitchen, kissing Esme and slinging the knapsack over his shoulder. “Are we ready to go? Did the fleece fit okay, Emmett? You can have a look in my closet for something else if you would rather.”

“No, this is fine, thanks,” I say.

Carlisle takes a blue and yellow striped hat out of his jacket pocket and pulls it down over Alice’s head. It has a Camden logo on the front. “There you go, Alice. Now, promise me that if you don’t feel well at the football you’ll tell us okay? If you get too tired, or your head hurts…promise to tell me?”

Alice nods solemnly, and Carlisle leans forward and kisses her on the forehead. “Good girl. Now let’s go eat some hotdogs!”

Alice giggles, and Esme calls for Edward and then we’re all crowding into the car and on our way. It’s not far to the field, and once we’re there and I feel the cold wind whipping across us as we take our seats, I’m really glad for the fleece.

I see Rosalie right away, down on the edge of the field with a bunch of other cheerleaders. They’re warming up and messing around, and I am crazy impressed by some of the tricks I see Rosalie doing. Yes, I spent more time watching her than watching wiffle ball last Wednesday, but she wasn’t doing this kind of stuff with the little kids. Beside me, Alice is spellbound.

Much to my surprise, Rosalie sees us and comes bounding up the bleachers. “Hi!” She leans down and hugs Esme, grinning at me over her shoulder. Her cheeks are pink. “You came.”

Carlisle stands up and hugs Rosalie too. “It’s great to see you again! How are your mom and dad? Are they here today?”

Rosalie gives a short laugh. “No; Mom’s still in Indonesia and Dad had to go to London.”

I see a brief frown flash across Esme’s face. “Oh honey, you’re not on your own at home?”

“Bridget’s there,” Rosalie says carelessly, “And I’m fine. Ugh, it’s cold up here!” She crosses her arms over herself and shivers.

Esme opens her mouth to say something, but Carlisle gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head and easily, “So what’s the word, are we going to win today?”

“There’s always a chance, but I wouldn’t put money on it,” Rosalie says cheerfully. She smiles down at Alice. “Hi Alice, I’m Rosalie.”

Alice mumbles hello, but she’s turned shy and doesn’t make eye contact. I sling an arm over, pulling her closer. “You saw Rosalie at my school the other day, remember? And I’m going to her house after the game,” I remind her quietly.

Rosalie bounces lightly on her toes. “I’m gong to have to go back down there; I just wanted to say hi and make sure we were still on for later,” she says, her eyes on me.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Great!” Rosalie waves goodbye and runs back towards the rest of her squad.

“Of all the people in all the world,” Edward murmurs, gazing innocently skyward. “You and Rosalie Hale…”

“Dude, settle down,” I retort. “I’m going to hang out with her and a bunch of her friends…this is not a date.”

“Because she looks at all her friends the way she looks at you?” Edward says archly.

I snort. “Maybe she does! I don’t know.”

“Rosalie is a lovely girl,” Esme interjects, with a stern look at Edward. “And I think it’s good that Emmett’s making some new friends at Camden.”

“Well there’s making friends…and then there’s Rosalie,” Edward mutters, before he looks at me and laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’ll let it go!”

I mock punch him in the arm, but I don’t mind too much. I have no idea what’s going to happen with Rosalie and I, but I already know that I what I feel for her is beyond any joke. Nothing Edward can say really matters.

It’s my turn to smirk and raise an eyebrow at him a short time later though, when a bunch of the kids from lunch come and sit in the row ahead of us. Among them is Bella, and when I look over and catch Edward staring at her his face immediately flushes just about as red as his hair.

“Of all the people in all the world…” I murmur at him with a wicked grin. “You and Bella Swan…”

“Shut up!” Edward hisses.

“What? Doesn’t she like you? How could she not like you?” I’m genuinely surprised. Edward’s not exactly some macho alpha male, but he’s good looking enough and with all the piano and reading he’s definitely got that sensitive guy thing going on that a lot of girls go for. Bella is quiet, seems smart, and always has a book with her – assuming she doesn’t mind classical piano it’s a match made in introvert heaven.

In fact, even as I look at her, Bella waves the others off to the concession stand and, left alone, pulls a book out of her backpack and starts reading, ignoring the chaos around her.

“Does she even know that you like her?” I persist.

Edward rumples his hair distractedly. “I don’t know. And can you keep your voice down?”

“Sorry…so what’s going on then?”

“Nothing is going on. Bella has only been at Camden since the start of the semester. That’s all,” Edward says.

“And you’re just mooning around after her?”

“I’m not mooning! But…I suppose _you_ might call it that, considering you just seem to have charged forward like a bull at a matador when it comes to Rosalie,” Edward mutters. “ _Some_ of us would rather take our time.”

I laugh and lean forward. “Hey Bella!” I call. “You lost? It’s a football game, not a library.”

She looks up and shrugs. “It hasn’t started yet,” she says with a shy smile.

“It must be a good book,” I continue on, ignoring Edward’s agonised look. “What is it?”

“ _A Tale of Two Cities_ ,” Bella says, lifting the book to show me the cover. “Dickens.”

“Ah yeah, Dickens… my favourite.” I grin. Dickens? Whoever…the only author I’m familiar with is Dr Seuss. However I’d bet that somewhere amongst the thousands of books the Cullens have filled their house with is some Dickens; and I’d also bet that Edward, who has told me that he only sleeps six hours a night and reads the rest of the time, has at least given it a go. “Edward likes it too, right?”

I don’t think the poor dude could get any redder than he is, but Edward smiles gamely at Bella anyway. “ _David Copperfield_ is my favourite, but _Two Cities_ is good.”

Bella smiles back at Edward in a way that makes me think he might not have been the only one mooning around with this pair.

“I’ve only ever read _Oliver Twist_ , and now this. I thought it was about time I branched out from Jane Austen and the Brontes.”

What the fuck? I thought we were talking about books? Who are all these people they’re talking about?

Giving up a conversation that’s clearly beyond me, I tickle Alice until she giggles. “Come on Monkey, let’s go find you a hotdog.”

Carlisle and Esme come with us, leaving Edward minding the seats and talking to Bella, which makes me feel satisfied with my meddling. Carlisle pays for enough hotdogs and sodas for everyone, as well as buying me a burger and, at the last minute, a bucket of candyfloss that Alice is eyeing yearningly.

“Oh Carlisle, the sugar…” Esme sighs, but then she laughs and gives Alice a hug. “Don’t look so worried sweetie, it’s okay for you to have a treat.”

Alice seems to find the whole day out a treat. She claps and cheers whenever anyone around us does, no matter which team they’re rooting for, and with hotdogs, soda, and an entire bucket of candyfloss steadily making its way into her belly she’s in junk food heaven. She moves from my lap to Esme’s to Carlisle’s and back again. “This is so fun!” she exclaims more than once.

Watching her makes my heart hurt. Mostly in a good way, because underlying everything is the fact that I love this goofy little kid and all I want is to see her happy, and today she’s golden. But there is still, always, that sharp sense of pain because this isn’t real. It’s like we’re a family here, watching a dumb high school football game and eating junk and laughing and having fun, and it all seems like it’s perfect…but it’s not true. We’re not a family. The Cullens are amazing and are being wonderful, but we don’t belong here and one day it’s all going to go away again and it will just be Alice and me again.

_I want you to enjoy it, I love seeing you happy…but don’t get used to it Monkey. Because it isn’t going to last, and I can’t give you this by myself._

I try not to worry about it though, and just enjoy the day out, because it really is fun. The football is pretty mediocre, but Esme wasn’t lying when she said she loved it and she’s fiercely into it. Carlisle watches her almost as much as he watches the game, and once again I wonder about how it’s possible for people to love each other the way they seem to. I keep thinking there must be something else there, something darker that I just haven’t seen yet, but the trust and affection seems so bright and open and true that I don’t know how it could shield darkness.

Camden’s football team might not be exactly division 1 material, but it’s not a bad game to watch. And I guess I’m a lot like Alice, because eating junk food while I watch really elevates the whole experience. Then there are the Camden cheerleaders. Their tricks and routines are a lot more impressive and well put together than the plays the football team is doing, and Rosalie is front and centre. I can hardly take my eyes off her, and I don’t think it’s just because I have a thing for her – she’s beautiful, she obviously loves what she’s doing, and she absolutely exudes charisma.

Alice makes it to the end of the football game, but only just. By the time the final siren sounds she’s exhausted, sitting on my lap with my arms around her and her head resting against my chest. She’s sucking her thumb, but her face, sticky with candyfloss, is still all smiles. “Did we win?”

“We did,” Carlisle smiles at her. “Are you ready to go home now?”

Alice looks up at me, and I give her a squeeze. “You go with Carlisle and Esme, and I’ll come home later, okay?”

“But what if you don’t?” Alice whispers.

I see the very real fear on her face, and I can’t feel impatient with her neediness. She’s not trying to be difficult. “I promise I will. Don’t I always do what I say I will?”

Alice nods reluctantly, and I give her a last hug. “You know it.”

“I’m going to pick Emmett up and bring him home later,” Carlisle says, holding out his arms. “So you don’t need to worry Alice.”

“Now, you’d better promise not to be a troublemaker while I’m gone! Okay?” I wait for her to giggle, and then I pass her across to Carlisle’s waiting arms. “I’ll see you later.”

I’m glad she lets go without making a fuss, but my visceral reaction to watching her leave takes my breath away. Seeing her carried in Carlisle’s arms, his hand curved protectively round her head as she rests it tiredly on his shoulder…why is it that I’m suddenly the one feeling abandoned?

I shrug and settle back in my seat, glad for the warmth of the borrowed fleece as I sit and wait while the bleachers empty out around me. It’s not until I see Rosalie separate from a gang of her cheerleader friends that I stand up and head down.

“Emmett,” she says when I reach her, and I wonder how it is that she can make my heart beat faster just by saying my name.

“You looked like you had fun today,” I say lightly.

Rosalie laughs and starting guiding me towards the parking lot. “I did! Our squad is so good this year and cheering is the best fun.”

“Have you always cheered?”

“It feels like it. I started with gymnastics and dance when I was a toddler, so I don’t ever remember _not_ doing them. I started cheerleading after Dad took me to my first NBA game; I didn’t really care about the basketball but I watched the cheerleaders and told him that _that_ was what I was going to do. He enrolled me in lessons the next week.”

Ahead of us a bright red sports car beeps and flashes its lights at us, and I stop dead as Rosalie tosses her bag into the back seat and asks, “Do you like my baby?”

“This is your car?” I say in disbelief. It’s a BMW convertible and looks brand new.

“What? You have a problem with it?” Rosalie raises an eyebrow in my direction.

“Oh no! But, well…I mean it’s like a middle aged man’s mid-life crisis dream car, isn’t it?” I say, adding in alarm, “Or IS that what it is? Is it really your dad’s and I’ve just stuck my foot right in it?”

Rosalie laughs, and slides behind the wheel. “Get in! No, it’s mine…happy sweet sixteen Rosalie.” She rolls her eyes, although I’m not sure what’s eye roll worthy about being given a car that’s probably worth 50k. “Maybe my dad’s avoiding a midlife crisis by giving it to me? He drives a Tesla.”

I have got no idea what she’s talking about. Mark drives some banged up piece of shit truck, and my momma doesn’t even have a car that runs – luxury vehicles are really not in my knowledge base. “Well, I don’t drive, so I’m not exactly in a position to criticise.”

“I love driving,” Rosalie says, smoothly exiting the parking lot. “I couldn’t wait to get my licence and I love this car so much.” She gives me a quick, uncertain sideways look. “I know it’s kind of…showy. And it’s an outrageous first car. It’s total cop-bait too, I’m pulled over like twice a week so they can check it out, but I still love it.” She shrugs. “Dad’s taken me to the track with it a couple of times, just so I can drive it like it’s meant to be driven. Talk about fun- driving like that is amazing! But day to day…much as I love it, it’s kind of wasted on suburbia.”

“Hey, you don’t have to excuse it to me,” I say. “I’m enjoying my ride on the stylish side.”

Rosalie laughs. “I’m really glad you decided to come,” she says a moment later. “It’s a casual thing really; playing pool and video games and eating and whatever, but…I’m glad you came.”

She doesn’t look at me this time, but I hear the quick breath she takes and see the slightly deeper pink staining her cheeks and I don’t try and hide my breaking smile. “Yeah…me too.”


	25. Out of My Depth

Rosalie’s house makes my jaw drop. It’s enormous, all stone and steel and glass, and as I follow her in there is absolutely no sign anywhere that this is a place people live and not just some kind of architectural experiment. It’s brutally ugly.

“Is this a house or an art gallery?” I’m amazed.

“A bit of both?” Rosalie says, a little uncomfortably. “My mom is a photographer, so most of it’s her work.” She waves to the prints that cover the walls. There are a lot of exotic landscapes and portraits, including several of Rosalie at various ages.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” I say hastily, realising I’ve embarrassed her. “Don’t mind me, I don’t know how reasonable people behave. Your place is really nice.”

Rosalie gives a genuine laugh. “Oh Emmett, I know it’s hideous…maybe I should have warned you? It’s not like the Cullens’ house.”

 _And it’s a million miles from my house._ For a brief, bleak moment I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake coming here. Rosalie and I just have no common ground whatsoever…what am I doing even trying?

Someone calls to Rosalie from somewhere further in to the house, and I follow her through a couple more spaces (I don’t even feel like I can call them ‘rooms’) and into a kitchen. It’s like the Cullens’ kitchen on steroids, but at least it’s a room with a recognisable purpose.

A woman sliding trays into an oven stands up and wipes her hands on a dish towel as we enter. “I’ve put some snacks in for you; listen out for the timer so you can grab them when they’re ready.”

“Thanks,” Rosalie says. “Oh Bridget, this is Emmett; and Emmett, this is Bridget. She runs our lives.” She smiles at her affectionately.

“I try, at least!” Bridget tosses the towel onto the counter. “Nice to meet you Emmett. I’m done here Rosalie – you’ve got food in the oven, snacks and drinks in the rec room, and pizza money in the usual place. I’ve got a date tonight, so I’ll be home around midnight…keep it under control okay?”

“Okay.” Rosalie pours some juice and hands me a glass. “I’ll see you later.” Gulping down her juice, she waves as Bridget leaves the room.

“Who was that?” I put my empty glass over by the sink, even though that makes it the only thing in the whole room that looks out of place. How do people live like this?

“That’s Bridget. She runs the house; she does the shopping and organising and laundry and some cooking...all that. She’s going to law school at night so this is her side gig; dad pays her for the housekeeping stuff and she lives rent free in the basement apartment so that Mom and Dad can go away whenever they need to without leaving me home alone. ”

“Are your parents away a lot?” This is all such a foreign set up to me.

“Mom can travel for weeks at a time, depending on what she’s working on. Dad’s a company lawyer and has to travel between their offices pretty frequently, so I guess yeah, they’re away a lot.” Rosalie puts down her empty glass. “That’s why I used to spend so much time with the Cullens…come on.”

She leads me upstairs and down a short hallway, pushing open a door at the end of it. “This is my room.”

At least Rosalie’s room looks something like a normal bedroom, albeit something in one of Esme’s interior design magazines. It’s big and light, with white walls and drapes, pale hardwood floors with white rugs, a white desk, dresser and bookcase, as well as an elaborate white iron bedhead on the made bed. Everything is perfectly, painfully neat.

“I’m just going to have a really quick shower,” Rosalie says, suddenly looking awkward. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to just abandon you…you could go and hang out downstairs if you want, or stay here…I won’t be long.”

“Here’s fine,” I say quickly. Admittedly I feel weird being left alone in her bedroom, but what am I supposed to do on my own downstairs? Look at the artwork? Sit in the perfectly neat kitchen and not touch anything?

“Okay, I’ll be quick.”

Rosalie disappears through a door at the side of the room, and I wander over to the windows. Her room overlooks the backyard, which is as fancy as the rest of the house and features a swimming pool with a waterfall flowing into it. I shake my head a little. What am I doing here?

I don’t really know what to do while I’m waiting for her. I’m trying very hard to _not_ think about Rosalie being naked on the other side of that door, and I’m also incredibly conscious of my shabby jeans and dirty sneakers in all this pristine whiteness. Even the borrowed fleece has sticky pink and blue candyfloss smeared across the front, and I find myself leaning against the windowsill and anxiously gnawing on my fist.

Fortunately Rosalie is quicker than I expect, and I haven’t drawn blood by the time she reappears. Instead of her cheerleading uniform she’s wearing an ordinary dress, and with her hair freshly washed and shiny and a slick of make up on she looks beautiful.

“Sorry about that,” she says breathlessly. “I just wanted to clean up.”

“I don’t mind. You look really pretty,” I say impulsively, and for a moment it’s like the world narrows down to the tiny space between us as our eyes meet.

I don’t know what might happen, but then a doorbell chimes and Rosalie takes a quick breath and steps back. “We’d better get downstairs.”

It’s Vera at the door, with a couple of other cheerleaders in tow. Rosalie sends them to the rec room and then takes me into the kitchen to get the food from the oven. “Will you help me carry?” she asks, and after stuffing a tiny samosa into my mouth I nod and follow her downstairs.

Rosalie rec room is a half basement about the size of my entire house, and looks like a place I could quite happily spend the rest of my life. A pool table, a couple of old fashioned arcade style games, a giant tv, game systems and possibly every single game ever produced, shelves of dvds, an enormous stereo, board games and books and boxes of kids’ toys…even a shelving unit crammed with clear plastic containers of Lego divided by colour. There’s a long bench top with a sink, a microwave and a full size fridge, and French doors opening up to the pool.

I put the platter I’m holding down on the bench and turn to Rosalie. “I could _live_ in this room. Am I allowed to play with your Lego?”

“It’s a much better place to hang out than the rest of the house,” Rosalie admits. “I mean, it’s a bit excessive – if a toy exists my parents want to buy it – but it’s fun.” From upstairs the doorbell chimes again, and Rosalie bites her lip. “I have to go let people in.”

On my own, I eat a little more before Vera pops up beside me. “Hello Emmett,” she says mischievously. “I see Rosalie invited you after all.”

“Guess so.”

“Do you want a drink?” Vera offers, opening the fridge. “Soda, beer, wine cooler…whatever that stuff down the back is?”

I’m surprised at the amount of alcohol that’s stashed in the fridge. I’ve been stealing beer from Momma whenever I could since I was twelve and discovered that I liked the buzz and the way it made everything bad seem kind of far away, but she sure as hell wasn’t providing a fridge full of it like seems to be happening here. But in the end I just shrug – Rosalie’s whole life seems to be about excess. “Beer would be great,” I say.

Vera hands me one. “Do you want to play a game of pool?”

“I don’t know how,” I say truthfully. “But I’ll give it a try.”

“Oh fab, if you don’t know how to play I might beat you!” Vera drags me over to the pool table and hands me a cue. “I’ll set us up.”

My first game is a mess. Vera gives me an extremely rudimentary demonstration on how to shoot pool, and tells me the rules only to let me know that I’ve broken them. She is also obnoxiously, hilariously, pumped when she beats me.

“Yes! I never get to win! Rosalie is an absolute shark at this.”

Passing by, Rosalie hears this and laughs. “My dad had me playing pool when I still needed a step stool to reach the table. Besides, it’s just physics.” She looks at me. “Vera’s looking after you?”

“Along with trying to humiliate me over a game I’ve never played? Yeah.” I narrow my eyes at Vera. “But I’ve got the hang of it now, so watch out…play again?”

“Bring it on.” Vera grabs the triangle and starts setting up the balls, and I chalk the cue. I don’t know anything about physics, but I’ve got good hand-eye coordination and I’ve learned a bit in my first game.

Besides, Vera is really terrible. I saw her doing somersaults in the air while cheerleading earlier today, but I guess none of that physical coordination has leaked over into playing pool because she’s really bad. Even though it’s only the second time I’ve ever played I nearly beat her.

While we play, the room gradually gets more crowded around us as people arrive. I recognise some of the kids from my classes, and after hearing them talk about the game this afternoon I figure out that there’s a lot of football players and cheerleaders here. Someone turns the tv on to a football game, while others play the arcade games and groups of people hang out and talk. It’s noisy, but even with most people helping themselves to the beer it seems pretty relaxed.

“Thanks for the game Emmett,” Vera sighs at the end of the second game, handing her cue to one of the guys hanging around impatiently. “I’ve beaten you twice, and now we’ll never play again because you’ll kick my ass next time.” She giggles.

I hand my cue over to the next person. “Thanks. I’ve never played and that was great.”

Vera looks past me, and the smile falls off her face. “Oh for goodness sake!”

I turn and look where she’s looking and see Rosalie at the foot of the stairs, involved in an intense, low voiced conversation with Royce King.

“I thought there wasn’t anything going on between them?” Rosalie had been so emphatic that she was done with him; I hadn’t expected to see him here.

“Well, that kind of depends on whose perspective you’re looking at it from,” Vera mutters. “Rosalie’s over it, but Royce _isn’t_ and he’s used to getting what he wants. I wish she’d just tell him to fuck right off, but she has such a blind spot when it comes to him…” She bites off her words and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

Vera heads over to Rosalie and Royce, but I don’t go with her. I was dead serious when I told Rosalie I didn’t have it in me to deal with any more drama. But tonight I’ve been confronted with a hell of a life of privilege and luxury, and now a possibly-ex-possibly-not-boyfriend… I feel like maybe I’m in over my head, and this was a mistake.

I slip through the French doors and go outside. It’s cold and there’s no one out there, even though with the waterfall and the underwater lights the pool looks beautiful. I sit on the edge and fish the cell phone out of my pocket and call Esme.

“Emmett, are you okay? Do you want us to come and get you early?” Esme sounds a little surprised.

I’m momentarily tempted to say yes, come and get me, but I figure I should see the evening out. “No, I’m fine. I just thought I’d call and say goodnight to Alice…is she okay?”

“Oh Emmett, you’re so…you’re always thinking about her.” Esme’s voice falters. “You’re so good to her. And she’s right here.”

“Hey Monkey, thought I’d say goodnight,” I say.

‘I’m not going to bed until you come home.” Alice’s voice sounds scratchy with tiredness.

I drop my head into my hand. “Alice…”

“It’s too scary by myself!” Alice says frantically. “I’m not going to!”

“Okay, okay…” I try and calm her down.

The next moment Carlisle takes the phone from Alice and I have him in my ear. “Don’t worry about it Emmett. We’ve talked about it, and we’ve said she doesn’t have to go into the bedroom by herself. But she’s got her pillow and blanket and Catkin with her here on the sofa, and we’re just going to sit quietly and maybe she can have a little sleep here…right, Alice?”

I hear her assent, and then she takes the phone back. “Catkin is under my blanket and she’s purring. And I’m just being on the sofa very quiet…I’m being good, I promise,” she adds anxiously.

“I know, you’re a good girl,” I say. “You have a snooze with Catkin then, and I’ll be home a little bit later…I love you Monkey.”

I disconnect the call and sit for a moment, thinking about Alice and watching the people inside through the glass doors. I see Rosalie at the same time she sees me. She raises a hand, and then comes out the French doors and sits beside me a little hesitantly.

“I didn’t know where you’d gone…I thought maybe you left,” she says.

I shrug. “I saw you with Royce. Thought I’d just stay out of the way.”

Rosalie’s lips tighten. “I told you there’s nothing going on. It’s not as though I invited him here tonight – he knew that everyone was coming over so he just figured he might as well too…but I invited _you_.” She looks away.

I don’t say anything. It’s hard to even think about anything when she’s sitting so close and looking so beautiful, and I’m torn between grabbing her and kissing her or just running away because I don’t understand what’s happening here and I’m scared shitless.

My silence must go on too long though, because Rosalie stands up abruptly and says, “Okay, well I’m sorry. You obviously don’t want... Forget about it. I’ll keep out of your way.”

She turns away, but I can’t let her go…without even thinking about it I reach out and grab her, wrapping my hand around hers. “Wait.”

For a moment she freezes, and then turns slowly and looks down at me. She doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t pull her hand away either.

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ to…” I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. I’m so close to her, and I’m touching her… _what is going on here?_ Her hand is warm in mine and it’s like all I can feel is my skin against hers.

“What is it then?” Rosalie asks quietly. “I know you feel… _this…_ whatever this is.” In mine, her hand trembles. “You look at me like…I don’t even know Emmett. Like there isn’t anyone else in the world but the two of us.” She shakes her head. “I can’t explain it…but then you push me away, and I’m not going to try and talk you into something you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to push you away,” I say hoarsely, releasing her hand and rising to my feet. She doesn’t step back, and now we’re so close that we’re nearly touching, so close that when I look down and she looks up I can feel the warmth of her breath and see the deepening colour in her cheeks. “I never meant to do that. But I didn’t know if you thought…if you wanted…me. And then I came here tonight and it’s all BMWs and pool tables and this fancy fucking house…” I laugh despairingly. “And then Royce turned up and…”

“Don’t,” Rosalie says intently, laying her fingers across my lips. “Don’t judge me by that; it’s not fair. I can’t help that any more than you can help the way your life is.” Her hand against my face is a caress.

“It isn’t the same thing.” I can hardly breathe.

Rosalie drops her hand. “It’s still judging someone on something they can’t control. You didn’t create the situation that has you at the Cullens – would you want me to make assumptions about you because of that? No? Well I’m the same…don’t assume things about me just because I drive a BMW and live in a house so ugly and overly designed that it’s practically a museum.”

I laugh then, and the tension eases a little. “I’m sorry. But this is just really intimidating,” I say honestly. “It’s like everything in my life has gone crazy – Alice being sick, social services, going to the Cullens, starting at Camden, everything – and I don’t exactly know what I’m doing about any of it. And then I meet you…” My voice trails off, because she’s looking at me and my heart is pounding and if we get any closer then I’m going to…

“Rosalie! Pizza’s here!” Someone yells from the door and, hearing her name, Rosalie automatically jerks away from me.

_Are you fucking SERIOUS??? NOW???_

“Rosalie, what are you doing? The pizza guy is here and needs money!”

“Okay, I’m coming!” Rosalie shouts, and then turns back and gives me a rueful smile. “I’ve got to go and take care of that. Are you hungry?”

“Always,” I say, and without really thinking about it, I reach out and brush a hand along her bare arm. Someone sure had terrible timing to interrupt us, but watching Rosalie shiver as I touch her makes my disappointment lessen. I think that there’ll be other moments between the two of us. “Come on, let’s go and get some pizza.”


	26. Shit I Don't Talk About

I lose Rosalie in the crowd of people diving at the food like seagulls, even though there’s plenty of pizza for everyone. So I grab a couple of slices and another beer and end up sitting on the bottom of the stairs to eat, watching everyone.

I don’t mind being on my own. I’m not shy and I’ll talk to anyone, but I’m comfortable with my own company too. I don’t know any of these kids well either, and it’s interesting to watch them.

Unfortunately it’s not all just watching though. When I’ve finished eating I find the bathroom down a short hallway and use it, and when I come out someone jabs me in the shoulder hard enough to shove me against the wall, without even giving me a second to react.

“What the…?”

It’s Royce, looking mad as hell and pushing his face so close to me that I can smell the beer on his breath as he snarls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing with Rosalie?”

“What’s it to you?” I don’t flinch. I’ve faced down worse than him, and I won’t be intimidated.

“She’s got other things going on that don’t include you sniffing around like a dog, you fucking freak, so you’d better keep away from her.”

“If Rosalie doesn’t want me around, then she can tell me.” I shrug, deliberately keeping my hands loose even though I’m itching to make a fist and let him have it.

“Yeah, well _I’m_ telling you,” Royce hisses. “Stay the fuck away from her!”

“Don’t threaten me,” I say quietly, looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t like it.”

I don’t want this to turn into a fight. I haven’t been in a fistfight for years and I don’t want to go down that road again, but I know Royce’s type and I will not give him an inch. If he wants to make it physical then I’ll defend myself; he’s a footballer and has muscle but I’m a big dude and know how to hurt someone, and I’ll go down swinging if I have to.

“Then stay clear of Rosalie and it won’t be an issue.” Royce shoulders past me hard enough that I think it’s probably going to leave a bruise, and slams into the bathroom.

I don’t wait for him to come back out again. I’ve got the idea. It’s pretty clear that whatever Rosalie thinks, Royce is equally sure that it’s not over between them and I’m just in the way. I know I told Rosalie I wasn’t up for any drama, but I’ll be damned if I’ll back down to some assholes demands.

I hear my name called when I enter the rec room again, and see Rosalie waving to me from over near the pool table. “Emmett! Want a game?”

I grin and head over there, but I see Rosalie’s face fall when Royce comes out of the hallway behind me.

“Did he say something to you?” she asks tightly, handing me a pool cue.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say easily, deciding not to go into it with her. “Let’s just play…I think I like this game.”

I like it even more when it involves watching Rosalie play. I’ve always thought of pool as a game that old dudes in bars play, but Rosalie, a pool cue and a table is a whole different story. In fact the game is absolutely mortifying, as I’m too distracted to remember anything I’ve learned and the only reason Rosalie doesn’t beat me in a single turn is because she starts laughing at me and messes up.

“Let’s play teams,” Vera suggests. “Rose, you can have Emmett and I’ll take Jim.”

She has one of the football players in tow, and he takes a cue and gives me a half wave. “Hey.”

“We might win,” Vera tells him cheerfully. “Emmett sucks, so he should even out Rosalie’s mad skills.”

“You’ve got to give me some credit!” I protest good-naturedly, as Rosalie racks the balls again. “I’ve never played before tonight.”

“You’re doing fine,” Rosalie says, adding with a giggle, “But watch and learn little grasshopper…you have room to grow.” With a flourish she breaks, sending balls shooting in all directions.

I’m vaguely aware of Royce King throwing dark looks my way, but it’s easy to ignore him when I’ve got Rosalie right in front of me with her big blue eyes and flirty smiles and the almost-accidental touches of her hand as we move around the table during play. I don’t care about anything but seeing what happens between us. I don’t even want to waste a thought on an ex-boyfriend who can’t let go.

It’s a really fun night for me - it’s been so long since I’ve just hung out with other kids like this! I haven’t felt comfortable leaving Alice at home with Momma and Mark for a long time, and without even really thinking about it I gradually curtailed my social life almost completely so that she was never alone with them if I could possibly help it. Knowing that she’s safe with Carlisle and Esme gives me an almost intoxicating sense of freedom.

Not that I do anything crazy. I drink a little bit, but nothing I can’t handle. I watch football for a while and talk with some of the guys hanging out on the sofa, and take a turn playing video games when someone offers me a controller. At first I’m slightly uncomfortable around people who seem to find Rosalie’s insanely excessive house and million-dollar playroom ordinary, but I remember Edward telling me that not everyone at Camden is wealthy and try to keep an open mind. And if I don’t count the charming Royce and a couple of his friends who seem dirty on me too, everyone is friendly and I feel like I’m almost starting to fit in.

Mostly, no matter what else I’m doing at the same time, I watch Rosalie. Sometimes she’s right near me, playing video games and laughing; sometimes she’s messing around with her friends across the room. It doesn’t matter. I watch her, and when she thinks I’m not looking she watches me, and when our eyes meet both of us can’t help smiling.

I’m disappointed when the phone in my pocket vibrates with a message from Carlisle, saying that he’s ready to pick me up. I swallow the last of my beer and find Rosalie, touching her lightly on the arm.

“I’ve just had a text from Carlisle; I’m going to head off now.”

She doesn’t try to hide the look of disappointment. “Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

The rest of the house seems quiet and imposing compared to the casual party going on in the games room. “Thanks for inviting me,” I say as we reach the front door. “I had fun.”

“I’m really glad you came.” She’s standing close, but when she glances out to the driveway and sees the lights of Carlisle’s car in the driveway Rosalie just gives me a half smile and steps back. “I’ll see you?”

“Yeah.” There’s so much more I want to say to her, so much more I want to do…but it’s not the time. “I’ll see you.”

I jump into the front seat beside Carlisle, and he reverses out and starts driving towards his house. “How was it?”

I yawn. “Good. It was nice to just chill for a bit...not that I want to ditch Alice or anything, but it was kind of good to just do something normal…” I stop, embarrassed.

“Mmm,” Carlisle is frowning slightly. “We don’t mind that. But have you been drinking?”

“Huh? No.” I can feel my teeth on my knuckles. “I mean, beer yeah, but beer’s…not drinking.”

Carlisle half laughs. “Emmett…beer is definitely drinking. And Esme and I would _really_ prefer that you didn’t drink while you’re staying with us. Even aside from how bad it is for developing brains, you’re underage and it’s illegal and it puts us in a pretty awkward position.”

“Oh yeah, of course…sorry.” It had never occurred to me that Carlisle would either notice, or object to, me drinking beer at Rosalie’s. Momma hadn’t noticed me drinking since the time I overdid it and puked in the living room, and she only ever really seemed to care if I swiped it from her stash and there wasn’t any left.

“Do you drink a lot?” Carlisle doesn’t sound like he’s angry – he might as well be asking me if I eat a lot of cookies.

“Well…what’s a lot? I mean, no…I don’t think so.”

“Leave your hand,” Carlisle says mildly, and I realise that I’m chewing on my fist and pull it away from my mouth. “I’m just asking, Emmett, that’s all. Alcohol can become a coping mechanism very easily, but it’s not a good one and a lot of teens drink more than they should. I don’t know if that’s something you might want to work on, but you can talk to me if it is.”

“No, it’s not like…a problem.” I shake my head, and change the subject. “How was Alice?”

“She spent most of the evening asleep on the sofa. She was exhausted after spending the afternoon at the game.” In the flickering streetlights I can see Carlisle’s smile. “She’s a great little girl; very smart and imaginative.”

I grin. “I know. She drives me crazy, but…she’s great.”

“She’s struggling though,” Carlisle says carefully. “All the changes in her life in such a short time, coming on top of a brain injury…it would be a lot for anyone to deal with, let alone a five year old.”

My stomach tightens. “She’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure she will be. But Esme and I have been talking, and we think she would benefit from some regular counselling. We’re going to see about organising a psychologist through her school on Monday, or else I’ll find someone on a referral list at the hospital.”

“She doesn’t need that,” I say flatly. “It’s not going to help anything - the last thing she needs is for someone to try and get her to _talk_ about shit. If she wants to talk about it she can talk to me, not some stranger who…” I bite off my words. Maybe the alcohol is lowering my inhibitions because I’ve said more than I meant to.

“Are you concerned about what she might say?” Carlisle’s voice is deliberately neutral.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

There’s a long pause. “I know that there are things about your life with your mother that you don’t want to talk about. You want to protect her, and that’s understandable. But Alice…”

“Don’t!” I bite down on my hand so hard that my teeth jar against the bone. “You don’t know shit about that!”

The rest of the drive passes in silence, and I’m out of the car before Carlisle even turns it off, slamming the door behind me.

“Emmett, wait…” Carlisle comes after me as I go into the house.

“What’s wrong?” Esme rises from where she’s been sitting on the sofa. Alice is stretched out along the sofa with her thumb in her mouth and the cat curled up asleep next to her belly.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Carlisle says quietly. “But I do think that Alice would benefit from being able to talk about what’s on her mind, in her own way, with someone whose job it is to listen.”

I’m so furious. Why doesn’t he _get_ it? “Isn’t this _enough_?” I say through gritted teeth, throwing out my hands. “You know that it was bad, we’re here now, Mark’s in jail and Momma can’t do anything else…you know enough! Do we have to talk about _everything_? Do you have to know every single shitty, dirty, fucked up little detail?”

“We’re not asking these questions to hurt you,” Carlisle says. “That’s the last thing we want to do. But right now we’re pretty concerned about Alice’s emotional wellbeing, and therapy is one step we can take to help her.”

“And you really need to let people help,” Esme adds softly. “What you do for Alice – what you must have _done_ for her over the years – is wonderful, but it’s also far more than is reasonable to expect of yourself. Alice is an emotionally fragile five year old in an incredibly confusing and frightening situation, and you’re a sixteen year old boy in the same situation. It’s not a failing on your part if she needs something that you can’t give her. Carlisle and I really want to do what’s best for Alice, and help take some of that responsibility off your shoulders at the same time.”

I nod helplessly. I know they mean well, but once again it feels like events are speeding along completely out of my control. What am I supposed to say?

Carlisle clears his throat. “It worries me a little that you feel there are aspects of you and Alice’s lives that shouldn’t be shared. Your loyalty to your mother is commendable, but not if that comes at the expense of safety and security for Alice, or you.”

I cross to the sofa and sit beside Alice, looking at her instead of Carlisle and Esme. “I always tried to look out for her,” I say softly. “I didn’t want her to get hurt…but I didn’t want anyone to take her away, because if they took her away from Momma then I wouldn’t have her either.”

“And you’re afraid that if you or Alice talk about things that have happened then you won’t be able to go home? That you might be separated?” Esme sits beside me and rubs my shoulder for a moment.

“Maybe…and I know how fucking selfish that is! That I risk her being hurt, when it’s not like it’s that bad for me anymore - I’m a foot and a half taller than Momma and probably weigh twice as much…what can she do to hurt me now? But it’s different for Alice and I know that, but if I said anything…”

“Oh Emmett.” Esme hugs me, and it’s all so spontaneously warm and caring that I have to blink back tears. “That’s not selfish; of course you don’t want to lose Alice! But the two of you _are_ going to be able to stay together – no matter what happens with Maddie, Carlisle and I promise that we will keep both of you here with us until or unless there is another option that keeps you together. Whatever you tell us won’t change that. And we promise we’re not trying to dig secrets out of you…we just want to know as much as we can so that we can help you and Alice the best way we can.”

I close my eyes. “I don’t know if Mark ever did anything to her,” I say, and even to my ears my voice sounds as small and young as Alice. “He might have. If I knew anything I would have told in a heartbeat to get him out of our lives…but all I know for sure is that he’s an asshole and she was scared of him, and I did the best I could to keep her out of his way. Momma…”

I feel Esme gently take my fist away from my mouth and hold it tightly in her hands, but I don’t open my eyes.

“Momma…when she’s normal, it’s okay. I mean, I don’t think you would like it much - she yells and hits when she gets mad, and she always got wasted a lot – but it isn’t anything we can’t deal with. In the last year or so though, she’s started using other drugs and that’s…not good. Like I said, she can’t do much to me anymore and I know enough to stay out of her way and not set her off, but Alice…sometimes it’s bad.” I grope for the right words. “Momma can be crazy mean, and Alice bears the brunt of it and sometimes I can’t do anything. Like…I guess like the bath thing? That happened after Alice started wetting the bed again…she was potty trained but then she wasn’t, and Momma…she didn’t like it. When Alice woke up wet she’d put her in the bath, and sometimes it was…sometimes it was cold and sometimes it was…hot…and when Alice would scream I’d wake up and go and make Momma stop, but I wasn’t always…in time. And then the last time, by the time I got there Momma was…holding her under the water.”

The memory of it chokes me, Alice bug eyed with terror under the water, clawing at Momma’s hands while Momma screamed at her… “Momma was so fucked up on meth that she hadn’t slept in days and she was so crazy…I don’t even think she remembers doing it, but that’s when I moved Alice into my room, so Momma wouldn’t know if she wet the bed. And that’s why she won’t have a bath, and why she won’t sleep in the room by herself.” I yank my hand away from Esme and scoop Alice up in my arms, not looking at them and hoping they won’t notice how much I’m sweating and how much my hands are shaking. “And _that’s_ the kind of shit I don’t want to talk about.”


	27. Romance

“Why are you sleeping in your clothes?”

I force an eyelid open and see Alice peering at me. “What?”

“You’re sleeping in your clothes.”

I roll over to face her with a jaw-breaking yawn. “I guess I am.”

I hadn’t bothered changing into pyjamas after I carried her in here last night. I’d just curled up around her on the bed, focussing on nothing but the pain of my teeth against my knuckles and waiting for sleep to take me.

Speaking of which, my hand is killing me and there are streaks of blood all over the pillow. Probably all over my face too…I frown and rub a hand over my chin. “I’m going to have a shower.”

“Me too,” Alice says, and I don’t bother to argue.

Carlisle’s making pancakes in the kitchen when we go in, while Esme is doing the crossword at the table with Edward. I’m almost afraid to look at them after last night, so sick and embarrassed over the way I cracked and told them so much. But Esme just smiles at me and gives Alice a big hug when she runs over to her, and Carlisle gives me his usual nod and asks me to put the syrup out on the table because he’s almost done cooking.

“So Emmett, I was thinking last night that if you wanted to we could work on getting your licence,” Carlisle says casually, flipping pancakes onto plates. “Not that Esme and I mind driving you around, but it could give you a bit of independence. Would you be interested?”

I look up quickly. “Really? Yeah, that would be awesome.”

“I’d like for you to do drivers ed when we can get you in, but we can get started at home. Edward got his permit a little while ago and still has his book; it’s a bit of reading for you, but I’ll help you out with that…I could probably do with a quick refresher on the rules.” He grins. “Have you driven at all?”

“A little bit,” I admit. “Momma let me drive around the back roads once I got tall enough, but then her car stopped running so I didn’t have anything to practise in. Mark isn’t letting me anywhere near his shitty truck.”

“Well, we’ll see about getting you legal to drive,” Esme says, passing me over a banana for my pancakes. “Edward did drivers ed and has his permit, and we’ve been thinking about buying a car for him to use, so you’d be able to use that too.”

I’m not sure that’s what Edward wants to hear.

“Rosalie drives a BMW,” I say around a mouthful of food. “Can you believe that? Who gets a BMW convertible for their sixteenth birthday?”

“Well Edward, you’ll have a very long wait if you’re wanting a BMW, that’s all I’ll say about that,” Esme says disapprovingly.

Carlisle laughs. “Jack always liked his cars,” he tells me. “When we were at college he drove an absolute junker, but he always said the first thing he’d buy when he had money was a sports car.”

“What about me?” Alice says, abandoning her cutlery and starting to eat pancakes with her hands. “What can I do when Emmett’s learning to drive a car?”

“You could learn another song on the piano,” Edward suggests. “You’re pretty good with Mary Had a Little Lamb now; do you want to try Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? Or Old MacDonald had a Farm?”

The day unfolds so easily after that. I help Carlisle clean up the kitchen after breakfast, while Esme does some fancy braids in Alice’s hair and Edward goes digging through his room for the road rules book from the DMV. Then he and Alice sit down at the piano and start banging away, while I sit down at the table with the book and start reading. Carlisle sits beside me, doing the newspaper quiz and explaining the road rules whenever I ask him a question. It’s hard to ask him at first, because I hate feeling stupid, but he’s endlessly patient and after a while I don’t even think about being annoying because it’s obvious he doesn’t think I am. Esme goes out in the garden for a while, but comes back in when it starts raining and makes some cookies with Alice when she’s finished at the piano. We have homemade bread and soup for lunch, and in the afternoon I do my homework and play video games with Edward while Alice creates elaborate stories about her animal toys making friends and going shopping.

My hands don’t go anywhere near my mouth.

It’s all just so _easy._ No one is hungover, no one is screaming, the house is clean and nice to be in and smells like baking bread, and if I walk over to the pantry there’s a choice of things to eat. Alice giggles over her toys and doesn’t walk by Carlisle with stopping beside him and waiting until he notices her and gives her a hug or kisses her forehead. And he always notices. It’s easy and warm and safe…is this how it’s _supposed_ to be?

Esme and Carlisle decide to order Chinese food for dinner, and when Carlisle is despatched to go and pick it up he invites me to go with him. I suspect he’s doing it because he wants to talk to me, and sure enough we’re hardly out of the garage before he says, “About last night…”

“Yeah?” At least in the car I don’t have to look at him.

“I’m really glad that you talked to us. I understand how difficult it was for you, and Esme and I really appreciate the trust you’ve placed in us. I don’t want to betray that trust, but we should talk about sharing that information with Mara. Esme and I think it’s the kind of thing she needs to know.”

I shrug. “I kind of figured you’d say that. I mean, I know how bad that stuff is…I didn’t want to tell you, but that wasn’t because I don’t think it’s wrong. You can tell Mara if you think you should.”

_I’m sorry Momma. But Alice…she has to come first._

“I do think we need to talk to her,” Carlisle says. “I’m not sure that it will change anything at this point, since you’ve been removed from the home and Maddie’s already not allowed to see you without supervision, but it’s the kind of thing that needs to be documented. I’m sorry.”

“There are probably other things,” I mumble. “I wasn’t always there, and I don’t know what Alice remembers, but…there might be more.”

“That’s okay,” Carlisle says. “We’ll deal with things as we need to. We’re hoping to set Alice up with a therapist as soon as we can, and apart from that we’ll just keep talking to her at home and making her feel safe. Esme has an appointment to talk to the principal at the elementary school tomorrow morning; she’s going to ask about school based services and just make sure that the school is aware of what’s going on with Alice and will deal with it sensitively.”

“What about her brain?”

“She’s doing really well,” Carlisle says, pulling into the restaurant parking lot. “Esme has noticed a couple of memory…glitches, I suppose you could say, and she’s still getting tired more easily than normal, but overall her recovery has been excellent. I don’t want to rush things though, so I’ve told the school she’ll only be going half days for another week or two, just to give her a chance to ease back into things without getting overtired. It’s only first grade – we can do a little bit of reading and math at home and she won’t fall behind…Come on, let’s go get this food and get home. I’m hungry.”

_______________________________________________

“Emmett, a word?”

I’m almost out of the English classroom when Mr Winters calls me back on Monday morning. A little reluctantly I turn to face him.

“How are you doing? Settling in?” he asks.

I nod. “It’s good.”

“I noticed you didn’t hand your assignment in this morning. What’s happening with that?”

Damn, he doesn’t miss a thing. Everyone had just dropped their papers onto a messy pile on his desk – I can’t believe he noticed I didn’t. “Yeah…I haven’t finished it.”

“How much do you have done? I can have a look at what you’ve got so far and see if you’re on the right track.”

“Um…not that much. I mean, I did a bit, but it’s…” _too hard,_ I finish silently. “I was going to ask in the resource room; I have a period there after lunch.” I’d meant to ask Esme on the weekend and completely forgotten.

Mr Winters doesn’t look overly happy with me. “Okay, talk to Mrs Johansson today and see what you can do, but I want to see it tomorrow Emmett, regardless of whether it’s finished or not. I don’t want to ride you too hard about it, but we have to keep on top of things and these short answer assignments form the background knowledge for your big essays. Now, have you managed to see a film version yet?”

I shake my head, gnawing on my fist.

“You really should,” he tells me. “Seeing it performed is a whole difference experience to reading it, especially if you’re finding the reading hard going…and I think you are? Go to the library and borrow a dvd as soon as you can.”

I mutter something that might sound like assent, and hastily leave the classroom. I’m surprised to see Rosalie waiting for me, and we fall into step as we head towards the gym.

“What did he want?”

“I didn’t hand in my assignment,” I admit. “He wanted to know why, and then to tell me that I have to watch it on dvd.”

“I’ve got the Baz Luhrmann version at home,” Rosalie says. “You could come over and we could watch it if you wanted to. Or I’ll just bring it to school and you can borrow it – either way.”

She gives me a grin and I can’t help laughing, loving how confident and direct she is. “That would be great, thank you.”

“Do you want to come over this afternoon?”

“Umm…” I hesitate. “I’d really like to, but today was Alice’s first day back at school and she might…I need to go home after school and make sure she’s okay.”

“Well, I could come with you to see her and then we could go to my place after that,” Rosalie says slowly. “Or else I can bring the movie over to the Cullens’ and we can watch it there. It’s not as though they don’t have a dvd player, and Esme won’t mind.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure, if it’s easier for you,” Rosalie says.

It means a lot that she’s willing to make room for Alice. Rosalie seems like the kind of girl who could have anything or anyone she wants, and I’m under no illusions that I’m any great catch. Alice, my goofy little millstone, is only the start of it and yet the most important – no matter what this is between Rosalie and I, it can’t happen at the expense of Alice.

I jog back to the Cullens’ after school, anxious to see how Alice’s first day back at school went. She’d been quiet in the morning and let me leave without a scene, her bag by the door ready for Esme to drive her a little later. I hoped that she’d said goodbye and gone into her classroom with the same lack of fuss.

Alice is sound asleep on the sofa when I get back, thumb in her mouth and Catkin curled up against her stomach.

“She did fine,” Esme says softly at my shoulder. “She wanted me to walk her into her classroom, which was good because I wanted to meet her teacher anyway, and she was a little reluctant for me to leave. But there were no tears, and when I picked her up Miss Casper said she’d had a great day. She was exhausted though; she came home and ate a sandwich and put a movie on, but I don’t think she watched five minutes before she was asleep.”

“I thought it would be okay,” I say, turning back to the kitchen to look for a snack. “She loves school usually! But you know how it’s been…I didn’t know how she’d go.”

“Well, she went very well, although I think half-days for this week are a good idea!” Esme says. “How was your day?”

“Okay…oh yeah, do you mind if Rosalie comes over? She’s going to bring the _Romeo and Juliet_ dvd so I can try and get a grip on this stupid play, if that’s okay.”

“Of course that’s okay; you’re welcome to bring friends home anytime,” Esme says. “You’ll have to watch in the study though, so you don’t wake Alice.”

That doesn’t bother me at all. After Rosalie arrives and says hi to Esme and asks meekly if there are baked goods, the two of us take some cookies into the study and I set up the dvd. The study tv is a lot smaller than the tv in the living room, but the sofa is also smaller than the living room sectional and that means Rosalie’s sitting a lot closer than she would be out there…this suits me fine.

“So, what’s up with you?” Rosalie asks, curling her legs underneath her and flicking me a quick glance. “Is it just Shakespeare in particular, or English in general, or…?”

“I have dyslexia.” It’s the first time I’ve ever said it, and I can feel my ears burning. I hope she doesn’t notice. But even though I’m embarrassed, part of me likes that she just came out and asked, and now it’s out in the open. “I’m pretty bad at reading in general, so Shakespeare is just…impossible.”

“But watching the movie might help?” Rosalie asks, and waits until I nod. “Cool. Is being dyslexic part of why you came to Camden?”

“Partly. I didn’t know it was dyslexia until recently- I thought I was just plain stupid. But when Carlisle and Esme got involved they saw I was failing everything except art and insisted on assessments being done, which is when the dyslexia thing came out. The high school would have had to help me, but Esme said I could get a scholarship to Camden and have classes in the resource room, so it seemed like I should give it a try.”

Watching the movie does help the play make sense in a way the written words would never do for me. Rosalie, who seems to know the thing backwards, casually reminds me of characters’ names and backstories whenever it seems to be getting confusing, which lets me take in more of what’s happening.

“So what do you think?” Rosalie asks as it finishes, turning to face me.

“I don’t think I’m going to ace my assignment or anything, but at least after watching the movie I can probably name the main plot points,” I say cheerfully. “But why the hell is this talked about like the greatest romance of all time? They’re both _dead_.”

Rosalie laughs. “You don’t think it’s romantic?”

“No! Like I said, they’re both dead! What a waste, and it’s not like they even…” I cut my words off, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise.

“It’s a tragedy, not a romance anyway,” Rosalie says into the silence. “And romance itself is completely overrated.” She sounds almost angry.

“You’re not into romance?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Rosalie shifts restlessly. “Maybe, when it’s real? But it’s so easy to twist the idea of romance and use it to manipulate or even hurt someone…or maybe that’s just me?” She gives me a lopsided smile. “Being a girl feels like you’re supposed to want the whole fairy tale, hearts and flowers and the prince to come swooping in and carry you off…but none of that comes without a price and, right now, all I want is someone who _sees_ me.”

It’s like she speaks to my heart, because at the centre of things isn’t that what I want? What everyone wants? Someone who looks through the bullshit and games and armour and _sees_ you?

After all the _almost_ moments, this time I don’t hesitate. I curve my hands around Rosalie’s face and draw her close enough to touch my lips to hers, and then we’re kissing. Softly at first, and then harder, it feels like flying or falling or burning, I don’t even know…all I know is that I’ve never felt like this before, and then there isn’t another thought in my head beyond how damn good she feels and smells and tastes.

It could be an hour later when Rosalie pulls back, it could be ten minutes, it’s impossible to say. But she touches my lips with fingers that tremble slightly and the two of us stare, because there is something in this moment that feels profound.

“Was that…okay?”

Well, that was probably the most awkward thing I could have said to break that silence…I am no Romeo, that’s for sure. For a moment Rosalie looks startled, but then she laughs and leans forward to wrap her arms around me in a hug.

“Yes,” she whispers into my ear. “That was definitely okay.” And then so quietly that I’m not even sure I hear it, “ _You see me_.”


	28. Mothers

As soon as the bell rings for the end of the day on Friday afternoon, I grab my backpack and take off towards the elementary school. Alice and I have a visit with Momma, and since Esme wants to do some work at the church I said I’ll meet Alice and the two of us can walk to Mara’s office.

As I’m walking my phone rings and I frown suspiciously when I see that it’s Mara calling. “Hey.”

“Emmett, hi…look, have you spoken to your mom today? Or yesterday?” Mara asks.

“No. Is something wrong?”

“I haven’t been able to get in contact with her today, that’s all. It’s probably nothing, I just like to check in before a visit to make sure the parent is on track to attend.” Mara sounds distracted. “We’ll just have to wait and see. You and Alice are okay to come in?”

“Yeah, I’m on the way.” I walk through the elementary school playground and over to Alice’s classroom. “Just getting Alice now.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

Mara hangs up and I shove the phone back in my pocket, my stomach feeling tight. Surely Momma isn’t just going to blow us off? She knows the visit is scheduled; surely she’ll show up.

Alice is the last one out of her classroom after the bell rings, dragging her backpack and clutching her teacher’s hand. I wave at her, but when she doesn’t come running I head on over.

“Hi Emmett, how are you?” Miss Casper says with a warm smile, dropping her voice to add, “Alice has been a little upset about seeing her mom tonight. It’s the first full day she’s had back at school too, so she’s a little tired and she’s been crying.”

Alice’s lower lip is sticking out so far she probably can’t see her feet. “I want to go home.”

I take her hand. “Yeah, we’ve got to go to Mara’s office first. Say goodbye to your teacher.”

Miss Casper squeezes Alice’s hand and then lets her go as I tug her after me. “Have a good weekend Alice! I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Thanks,” I say to her, as Alice gives her a half-hearted wave. “Come on Monkey, we’ll be late.”

“But I don’t want to,” Alice whines, dragging her feet. “I don’t like it there…can’t we go home?”

“No.” I can’t help being short with her. I’m already stressed enough over this visit as it is, the last thing I need is Alice to make a fuss. “We’ve got our visit.”

The ten minute walk from the school to Mara’s office feels like an hour with Alice moaning and whining and dragging her feet beside me. She doesn’t want to visit. She wants to go home. She wants Esme. Why does she have to walk? She’s tired. Her head hurts. Why can’t she go home? She wants Carlisle. She hates Mara’s office. Why does she have to visit?

_Why won’t you just shut up?_

Alice is no happier when we’re at the office, sitting in the Rainbow room this time, and once again waiting for Momma.

“Mommy’s not even here,” she mutters. “We didn’t have to come.”

I ignore her, slumping on the sofa and gnawing on my fist. I’ve been good for the past few days and some of the scabs have actually healed, but the new skin is pink and tender and stings and burns as my teeth pick at it. Alice glowers at me resentfully and then turns her back, sitting by the bookshelf and leafing through the picture books.

I close my eyes, focussing only on the pain in my knuckles and the tick of the clock marking the time.

“Hey, I’ve brought you guys a muffin.” It’s Mara, pushing the door open and bringing in a plate. “Anyone hungry?”

I shake my head but Alice, scowling and sulky, goes over and takes one. “I want to go _home_.”

Mara gives her a hug. “I’m thinking your mom might not be coming today. Should I call Esme to pick you up a little bit early?”

Alice bursts into tears. “Yes!”

“But Momma’s never on time and it’s not…not so late.” I try and keep my voice steady.

Mara looks at me sympathetically. “If she’d let me know she was definitely coming I’d say wait, but I haven’t talked to her and it’s been over twenty minutes now. Maddie knows the schedule. You two shouldn’t have to sit here for an hour.”

Alice keeps crying. “I want Esme to come.”

“I’ll give her a call.”

Mara says we can stay in the room and wait for Esme if we want to, but Alice insists on waiting in the front reception area, plastered against the window so she’ll be sure to see her right away. I reluctantly join her.

I hate sitting there with the sting of rejection making my eyes burn. I don’t know whether I’m more hurt or angry, and I don’t want to examine my emotions any closer in order to find out.

Esme arrives fairly soon, and after a quiet word with Mara she guides Alice and I out to the car. I’m silent as I strap Alice in and hunch in the front seat, but my sister is making enough noise for both of us.

“I didn’t want to go,” she tells Esme through hiccupping sobs as we drive home. “And then Mommy didn’t even come! I wanted to be at home, and Emmett was so mean…”

Esme makes soothing noises but Alice keeps crying and telling Esme how Momma didn’t come and she didn’t want to visit either, and it’s not fair.

And it’s NOT fair, but her whining is killing me and as we pull into the garage I can’t stop myself from saying savagely, “Will you just _shut the fuck up_?”

Alice stares at me for a moment through narrowed eyes. Then she sucks in a deep breath, opens her mouth as wide as it will go and screams as loudly as she can, directly into my face. In the confined space of the garage it’s ear-splitting.

I’m not going to hit her. I don’t think I am. But I twist in my seat and raise my hand to her, and she chokes her scream off with a look of fear so profound I know I will never forgive myself for this.

“No.” Esme’s hand grips my wrist, and her voice is like steel. “You don’t do that Emmett.”

And I _don’t_ do this. I’ve never hit her, never threatened her in the way I just did…and I hate myself for it, and hate this whole situation that’s turning me into someone I don’t even know. Yanking my arm away from Esme I rush out of the car and go inside, ignoring Edward at the piano as I go straight to my room and slam the door, sitting down on the floor with my back to it so that no one is going to come in and see me sobbing.

________________________________________________

I ignore the knocking the first two times. But the third time Esme says my name, and I wipe my face with the hem of my t-shirt and reluctantly open the door. I don’t look at her as I sit on the bed, and a moment later she sits beside me.

“I’m really sorry you didn’t get to see your mom.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I mutter.

Esme rubs my shoulder. “It does matter though,” she says softly. “I can see how much it’s upset you. And it’s okay that you feel angry and hurt, but lashing out like that isn’t acceptable.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt her.” My voice, forced out around the lump in my throat, is barely audible.

“Intentionally…no, you wouldn’t. But you are dealing with a great deal Emmett, and I think today shows that it’s starting to become perhaps a little too much,” Esme says. “So Carlisle and I have decided that you _will_ be seeing a counsellor, at least for a while. This isn’t a punishment, or something that you ought to feel pressured by – it’s just giving you a space to talk to someone outside of the situation and work through some of your feelings. You don’t have a choice about this I’m afraid, but I do hope you’ll at least try and get something out of it.”

I don’t want counselling. What’s the point of dwelling on things? And what is _talking_ going to achieve? It’s pretty fucking clear that my whole life is completely out of my control and the only thing that I can do is roll with it – it’s not like anything I do is going to affect the outcome. But Esme’s tone doesn’t allow argument, so I nod mutely and give in to the inevitable.

“What you feel isn’t wrong,” Esme goes on. “But there are healthier and more appropriate ways to express those feelings, and I think you could do with some help in that area. Would you prefer to speak with the school counsellor at Camden, or see someone outside of school?”

“Outside school,” I mutter. I’m already self-conscious enough there – I don’t need more people watching me head off to the psychologist and wondering what my problem is.

“That’s fine; I’ll set something up.”

“I’m really sorry,” I say, so softly I don’t even know if she’ll hear me. I can’t look at her. I hate the thought that I’ve disappointed her. I hate that I’ve ruined the good thing we have here.

“Emmett, look at me.”

I don’t want to. I’m so scared of what I’ll see in her face that lifting my eyes to meet hers is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But Esme just looks steadily back at me with the same calm friendliness as always, and gives me a half smile. “It’s all right.”

I can feel tears in my eyes, and I bite savagely on my fist to distract myself. “But I was so…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have got so mad.”

Esme wraps her arm around me and squeezes. “You’re a good person Emmett, you really are…I have never doubted that for a second. And you have every right to feel the way you do – your mother let you down today and that’s not fair.”

“I thought that maybe you wouldn’t want me around, if I was going to do stuff like that.” I can’t stop the tears now, and I feel like I’m five years old again.

“Oh sweetheart no,” Esme says. “That’s not how it works. Until you can go home to your mother, you have a home and a family here no matter what. It’s not always going to be perfect – you’ll make mistakes, I’ll make mistakes; there will be misunderstandings and hurt feelings, and probably sometimes we won’t even like each other very much. But that happens in families, and it doesn’t mean we just give up on each other. We can say sorry and make amends, and work on the problem until we’ve found a solution. Okay?”

I nod dumbly and Esme hugs me again even tighter this time. “I know today was hard,” she whispers. “But you’ll get through this Emmett, I promise.”

For a moment I drop my head and rest it against her shoulder. _Why can’t my own mom do this? Why isn’t our family “no matter what”?_

When we leave my room I find Alice at the piano, concentrating fiercely on playing Old MacDonald had a Farm. I wait for the appropriate moment and make pig noises at her, and she laughs and clashes the keys. “Emmett!”

I sit on the piano bench beside her. “You okay?”

“Yes. Listen to my song!”

I listen to her painstaking playing, and applaud enthusiastically when she’s finished. “You’re doing so great!” I hesitate for a moment and then say, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Why do we have to visit anyway?” Alice frowns.

“Momma wants to see us.”

“Then why didn’t she even come?” Alice demands, and I don’t have an answer for that one. “I don’t care,” she adds fiercely. “I want to stay here with Esme and not visit anyway.”

I press one of the piano keys. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“It’s better here,” Alice says very quietly. “No one yells, not even when I wet the bed and ate the last cookie without asking, and no one hits. Esme is such a nice mom...this is better.”

“She’s not our mom though,” I say, my voice low. “And we’re going to have to go home again one day…Esme can’t be your mom, Alice, not just because you want to stay here.”

“Well that’s _stupid_ ,” Alice says, kicking the leg of the piano bench. “Esme likes me and it’s better here, so we should just _stay_.”

Her lip trembles, but even as I reach my hand out to comfort her she’s sliding down from the bench and running into the kitchen to Esme. It’s the first time in years that she’s turned to someone else instead of me when she’s feeling bad, and for a moment I just sit there stunned.

_It’s always been you and me, Monkey…what are you doing? Please don’t let that go._

Edward comes in, looking surprised when he sees me sitting at the piano. “Would you like a lesson?” he enquires dryly. “Alice has left out the music for Old MacDonald, we could start with that.”

I laugh shakily. “Uh, no thanks; I’ll leave that to her. Do you want the piano?” I get up from the bench. “I’m just leaving.”

Edward looks at me for a moment and then says, “Well, I was going to practise but…would you like to play some x-box instead? I downloaded a new game the other day, but it will be better as a two-player I think.”

Edward is quiet and smart and studies like he enjoys it, but even though the two of us have almost nothing in common it’s as though he gets me. After everything that happened today – and I have no doubt he’s well aware –hanging out playing x-box and pretending like I’ve got nothing else to worry about sounds perfect.

“Yeah, I’ll play,” I say, forcing a smile. “But get ready to have your ass whooped, cause I’m taking no prisoners today.”

_______________________________________________

I call Rosalie later. I wait until I’ve said goodnight and gone into my room, making myself comfortable in bed and then finding her number in my phone. Next to me Alice is already asleep, burrowed down under her quilt so that all I can see is the top of her head.

Rosalie and I have talked every night this week, and she picks up right away. “Hi.”

“Hey you,” I say, my spirits lifting just as the sound of her voice. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting in the bathtub.”

“What…naked?” The images this brings to mind make me really wish that Alice wasn’t right beside me.

“No, in my clothes…of course I’m nude!” Rosalie says, adding in a hard voice. “And no, I’m not texting you pictures, asshole.”

“What the fuck?” This conversation is going places I never expected. “I didn’t ask you to!”

There’s a long silence. “Sorry,” Rosalie says eventually. “I guess I jumped to conclusions there.”

“Just a bit!” I’m still rattled. “Why do you even think I’d ask?”

“Because I’ve spent the last year and a half dating a guy who never stopped asking,” Rosalie says reluctantly. “Royce always wanted a lot more than I wanted to give him, and he didn’t like being told no.”

“Well, I’m not him,” I say bluntly.

“No, you’re not. And that’s a really good thing…” I can tell she’s smiling. “I’m sorry I jumped on you. How was your visit?”

“Momma didn’t show.”

“Oh Emmett, I’m sorry,” Rosalie says. “Do you know why? Do you think there’s something wrong?”

“What, besides meth?” I laugh without humour. “No. I haven’t talked to her, but I’m pretty sure Momma just found something else to do with her time today.”

“Was Alice okay?”

“She didn’t even want to visit in the first place. She’s decided she’s perfectly happy here and that Esme is a much better candidate to be her mom.” I look at her sleeping next to me. “Which…well, she’s not wrong, is she? If we’re keeping score then Esme is probably a much better mother. But it’s not as though you just get to choose, and it kind of worries me that Alice has completely written Momma off.”

“I used to wish Esme was my mother,” Rosalie admits.

“Why?” I’m honestly baffled. I’ve never met Rosalie’s mother, but all that money and that house and always having everything she wanted…how bad could it be? “What’s wrong with your mother?”

“Well, I haven’t even seen her in seven and a half weeks, for one,” Rosalie says lightly. “I think I told you she’s a photographer? Look, I’m not complaining…my mom is great at what she does and she’s won a lot of awards and published some really important articles. Particularly for a woman in her field she’s done some amazing stuff, and I know that a lot of kids have parents who travel for work. I’m a big girl now and I do fine with just Dad and whoever we have working here.”

I can tell she means to sound casual, but there’s the faintest catch in her voice that makes me suspect that she maybe hasn’t outgrown the need for her mother the way she’d like to think she has.

“But when I was little I really wanted a mother who was around…I used to pretend that Esme was mine.” Rosalie sighs. “You probably think that’s stupid.”

“No. I don’t think you’re the only one who wishes they had a mom like Esme.” I lay a hand on Alice’s back and think about bawling on Esme’s shoulder earlier. “Definitely not the only one.”


	29. Cars and Clothes and Kisses

“Emmett!” Esme sticks her head into the living room, where I’m drawing and Alice is playing with the animals again. “Come out front…we want to show you something.”

Curious I follow her outside, where Carlisle and Edward are both standing on the front lawn, examining a small silver car parked at the curb.

“What do you think?” Esme asks happily. “For you and Edward to use.”

“I can’t even drive!”

“Well, you’ll learn. And this way Edward can drive you to and from school now that the weather is getting worse,” Esme says.

“It’s awesome! A Volvo…just what I’ve always wanted.”

“It has an excellent safety rating,” Esme tells me, with a giggle. “And I’d rather have you two alive than showing off and trying to look cool, so safety first.”

Behind her, Edward is laughing at me. “Just because it’s not a BMW convertible!”

“Hey, who am I to object? Seriously, I don’t know what to say.” I grin at Esme and Carlisle a little awkwardly. “That’s really great.”

“We just need to get you driving,” Carlisle says. “Let’s take it out- Edward can test it out first and then we’ll give you a turn.” He tosses a set of keys to Edward, who slides into the driver’s seat.

“Me too, me too!” Alice is jumping. “Let me come!”

I just open the door and let her scoot right in, but Carlisle taps me on the shoulder. “Car seat,” he reminds me.

For a moment I feel a brief flare of irritation. I know they mean well, but the insistence on _their_ rules when it comes to Alice sometimes gets my hackles up. I’ve been looking after her for years and we’re fine – it’s frustrating now to be constantly told I’m doing it wrong.

Admittedly the car seat is law, not just a rule they’ve dreamed up, so I simply go and haul it out of the Mercedes and install it in the Volvo. Then I sit in the back with Alice, while Carlisle sits in the front passenger seat and Edward drives us on a winding route through town and out to an industrial estate a couple of miles away.

“You drive just like a real grown up,” Alice tells him admiringly, before looking at me doubtfully. “I don’t think Emmett can. Remember when you crashed into the gate?”

“One time,” I say hastily to an alarmed looking Edward. “That was just one time! I’m not going to crash your car; it’s not like there are any gates here… I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

“This is worse than driver’s ed,” Edward mutters as he trades places with me. “Let’s hope you drive better in reality than you do in video games.”

He doesn’t need to worry. I’m not bad, and in the almost empty industrial estate it’s not like there are any other cars to hit anyway. It’s going to take me a while to feel confident enough to take the written test, but when it comes to actually driving I think I’ll be fine. And it’s fun…I start to get where Rosalie’s coming from. Even if she’s driving a fancy sports car and I’m driving a soccer mom’s Volvo.

I call her when we get back to the Cullens. She’s cheering at an away game later in the afternoon, and she’s keyed up and excited.

“We’re going to do some new routines that we’ve been practising,” she tells me. “It should be really fun. Do you want to come over tonight? I can pick you up after the game.”

“Sure, that would be great.”

“There won’t be as many people as last time,” Rosalie says. “Most of them are going to hang out at Royce’s place, but I’d rather see you and going there together would just be awkward.”

“Yeah, not a great idea.” Considering he threatened me in Rosalie’s hallway just for looking at her last weekend, there’s no way I’m setting foot in his house. Because it’s not just looking now – since I kissed her the first time it’s been kind of hard to stop.

“Vera and a few of the other girls are coming over here instead, no doubt bringing over some randoms – it’ll be pretty laid back. I can drive you home afterwards so it’s no trouble for Carlisle or Esme. Or Edward, since he can drive you now!” Rosalie laughs. “Anyway, I have to go…I’ll see you later!”

I don’t know how I’m going to fill in the afternoon, but Esme solves that problem at lunch by announcing that she’s taking Edward, Alice and I to the mall. “You all need some more clothes for winter,” she declares. “I’ve got a list, and we’ll try and pick everything up this afternoon.” She looks over at me with a pointed look. “And Emmett…you need a lot of things and I’m going to buy them all no matter what you say, so please try not to worry about the expense. All you need to do is find things you like; and a thank you at the end of the day is enough, okay?”

Embarrassed, I grin back. “Okay.”

I’m nervous when we get to the mall and the first store we go into is all Edward-style preppy, with khakis and button down shirts and sweaters, worried because maybe she’s going to try and make me dress like that. And there’s nothing wrong with it, except that it’s not me at all. But once she’s sent Edward into the change room with a pile of pants, Esme turns to me.

“Do you like anything in here?” she asks.

“Uh…maybe…I don’t know…”

“It’s a question, not a demand you find something,” Esme says gently, pulling my fist away from my mouth. “I didn’t think it would be your style, but I didn’t want to assume anything either. Maybe you’d like to try a new look? You can choose what you like today. Within reason that is!” she adds hastily.

I laugh. My clothing options have always been pretty much limited to Walmart and the church thrift store, and I’ve never been too worried about my look. “I’m not that fussed about it, honestly. Jeans and t-shirts are fine- they’re comfortable and don’t show the dirt too bad.”

Esme looks slightly disturbed at that, but nods anyway. “We’ll go to some other stores after this one. I do want you to buy a button down shirt though, you should have something slightly dressier than a t-shirt if you need it. So have a look here while we’re waiting for Edward.”

Alice helps me look, although she’s not very impressed. “These clothes are so boring,” she says. “Boys clothes are no fun…no sparkles or cats or anything cute.”

She’s probably right, but frankly I’m not that disappointed with the lack of cats and sparkles when it comes to shirts. I choose a plain, dark coloured one and Esme adds it to the pile that Edward is amassing.

After that’s all paid for we move on through the rest of the mall, and I discover that Esme really wasn’t kidding when she said she was going to buy me a lot. Edward gets a few things and Alice chooses a collection of pants and sweaters and a couple of dresses with tights, but I end up with several pairs of jeans, piles of t-shirts, a couple more button up shirts, some hoodies and a fleece jacket kind of similar to the one of Carlisle’s I’ve been wearing, as well as pyjamas and socks and underwear. I’m even pushed into a shoe shop and made to find some good boots, and the fanciest pair of sneakers I’ve ever owned. I know Esme said not to worry about the money, but I see the receipts and my knuckles would be a bloody mess by the end of it if she hadn’t spent all afternoon pulling them away from my teeth. Esme’s spent more on clothes for me in one afternoon than Momma did in sixteen years.

“You need these,” Esme say to me quietly, as the salesperson wraps up the shoes. “You might think it’s extravagant, but everything you own has holes in it. Remember what I said – you need it and we can afford it, so just say thank you and leave it at that.” She pulls me down and kisses my forehead, and I’m so surprised by her I forget all about the money.

Our last stop is the walk in hair salon, where Alice gets about three inches cut off the bottom of her hair and they trim my curls until I no longer look like a sheep. Edward doesn’t get his hair cut; despite the fact that it generally looks like he styled with a weedwhacker in a hurricane he apparently “has a guy” he trusts to deal with it, a fact that makes me just fall about laughing. He looks like he combs it with a pitchfork- how can he have an actual hair stylist?

When we get home I start gathering bags from the trunk. Alice snatches the bag with her new dress in it and dashes into the house, bursting to show Carlisle everything she bought. Almost as quickly she bolts back into the garage and throws herself at me, nearly knocking me off my feet.

“What?” I drop the shopping bags and scoop her up. “What happened?”

“He was _sleeping_.” Alice is nearly beside herself with horror. “And I shouted and woke him up.”

I can hear Carlisle calling hello, and footsteps coming towards the garage. Alice whimpers and wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my neck.

“It doesn’t matter here,” I say to her. “Carlisle won’t be mad.”

“Won’t be mad about what?” Carlisle appears, looking rumpled and still half asleep. “Mad about how much shopping you did? Certainly not, as long as you bought me something too!” He looks over at Alice, hiding in my arms, and frowns. “Where did you go, Alice? I thought you woke me up to show me your new dress?”

She won’t even look at him. Carlisle shrugs and starts gathering up the bags that I dropped. “Let’s all go inside and then you can show me. It looks like a busy afternoon!”

“He’s not mad,” I quietly tell Alice again as we follow him into the kitchen. “Look Monkey, he doesn’t care…no one is going to yell at you.” I look at Carlisle. “She’s scared because she woke you up.”

I don’t need to say that back home, waking up Momma or Mark was something worth being scared of.

“Oh Alice, that doesn’t matter at all,” Carlisle says tenderly. “Come on now, I really want to see what you bought.”

Alice peels her face out of my neck and looks at Carlisle uncertainly. “You’re not mad?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. I needed to wake up anyway; I want to see all the shopping and then I’ll have to help Esme with dinner. So are you going to show me?”

Alice nods and slides down from my arms, digging into her shopping bags as soon as her feet hit the floor. “I got leggings…and this purple dress…and this dress with stars on it…” She holds everything up and waits for Carlisle’s nod of approval before going on to the next item. “…and this hat, see the pompom? And this t-shirt which I like because it has a unicorn on it…”

I leave her to it and go and take a quick shower to wash all the stray cut hairs off the back of my neck before Rosalie comes. I try not to think about Alice’s terror over waking Carlisle. Things like that, like her being afraid of waking someone because of what they might do to her…it seemed so normal at home, even necessary, and yet here it is glaringly out of place. The idea of Carlisle hitting Alice because she woke him up from a nap on the sofa with the cat is just preposterous. Carlisle’s words- ‘ _that’s not normal, and it’s not okay either’-_ keep echoing in my head. Is this what he was trying to make me see?

After my shower I dress in some of my new clothes. Esme and Carlisle’s approving comments do nothing but make me feel self-conscious, a feeling made ten times worse by Rosalie wolf whistling at me when I open the door to her a short time later.

“Oh, shut up!”

“But you look so good!” Rosalie, who is still wearing her cheerleader uniform with a cropped sweater over the top of it, hugs me tight. Her hands run up my back and through my newly cropped hair, then briefly brush across my ass. “I like these jeans,” she murmurs into my mouth, as she tips her face up for a kiss.

Holding her in my arms, kissing her…it all feels so right. Everything about her makes me ache with wanting her; the way she looks at me, the way she feels under my hands when I touch her, the way she touches me, everything. But for all being near her makes me crazy excited, holding her also has, at its core, a feeling of perfect and beautiful calm. This is exactly where I want to be.

“Emmett is kissing Rosalie and it’s _disgusting_.”

Alice’s appalled voice travels clearly from the kitchen, and effectively ruins the moment.

“I don’t know about _disgusting_ …” Rosalie murmurs, drawing away and smiling at me ruefully. “I’ll go and say hi to Esme and Carlisle.”

I take a moment to adjust my new jeans, and then follow her to the kitchen.

“I’ll bring Emmett back tonight,” Rosalie tells them, leaning on the counter. “There are only going to be a few people there tonight, so I can drive him back afterwards.”

“No drinking then,” Carlisle says bluntly. “I’m serious; nothing if you’re going to get behind the wheel of that car, Rosalie. Emmett, you can always call me for a ride if you need to. I mean that for anytime, not just tonight too. We have the same deal with Edward – Esme or I will come and pick you up from anywhere, any time, no questions asked, if it stops you from getting in a car with someone who has been drinking. Understand?”

I nod, a little taken aback at his ferocity. He’s dead serious about this drinking thing, it seems.

“Same goes for you,” Carlisle says to Rosalie. “I know your dad isn’t always available, so if you ever need to then you call us too. I’ve seen the results of drinking and driving in the ER too many times to willingly see other lives put at risk.”

“What about me?” Alice says, peering over the counter at him. “Will you pick me up? Can I call you? Can I have my own phone to call you?”

Carlisle laughs affectionately. “I’ll always pick you up. And when you’re big enough to go out with your friends at night, I’ll give you a phone. Deal?”

Alice seems satisfied with this answer, and I pick her up and give her a hug. “I’m going to go now Monkey, okay? You’ll be good?”

“I’ll stay with Carlisle and Esme until you come back,” she nods, giving me a strangling hug and whispering in my ear with a giggle. “Have fun doing more _kissing_.”

She makes _ewww_ noises at me, and so I make kissy faces and then give her a smacking kiss on her cheek while she shrieks, and we’re both laughing when I say goodbye.

“Carlisle and Esme can be pretty full on,” Rosalie comments as we drive towards her house.

“Tell me about it,” I mutter, immediately feeling guilty for even this very mild criticism. Of course what they’re doing is good and right…but I’ve spent years pretty much answering only to myself, and it’s not easy to just bow down to parental authority again.

Freedom from that oversight is part of what appeals about hanging out at Rosalie’s house tonight. I actually do meet her dad briefly, but he’s settled in front of a football game with a beer and a laptop in what might be a living room (although who knows, in this house), and just tells us to have fun. He doesn’t seem to bat an eyelid when Rosalie takes me upstairs to her bedroom.

Not that anything happens that he might object to anyway. Rosalie takes a shower, and I fill in time writing her name in graffiti style script on her whiteboard. The markers are harder to use than pencils or chalk, and I have to erase and restart a couple of times. I’m so absorbed in what I’m doing that I don’t even notice Rosalie come out until she wraps her arms around me from behind and kisses the back of my neck.

“You’re so good at that- it looks great.”

I finish the last letter a little haphazardly, way too conscious of the feel of her pressed up against my ass and with her breasts in my back, and then turn around to smile down at her. “Hey beautiful girl.”

Rosalie leans against me, and then reaches up and pulls my head down to kiss her again. I respond eagerly, my hands in her hair and every one of my senses full of her.

“Why do you always wait for me to kiss you first?” Rosalie asks hesitantly. “After that first time…you always wait.”

“I don’t want to push you,” I say honestly. “This is still so new, and I don’t really know what I’m doing. You said Royce used to pressure you a lot, and I’m not really like that…I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

For a long moment Rosalie just looks at me wonderingly. “How can you be so exactly what I need right now?” she whispers, and this time I don’t wait for her before I kiss her again, because she’s just perfectly put into words what’s in my heart.


	30. An Unwanted Encounter

Monday morning is cold and wet, but I don’t mind as I get ready for school. We have the Volvo so Edward can drive us, and after spending all Sunday afternoon at the kitchen table with Esme and Edward helping me I’m completely up to date with my homework. Alice even eats a breakfast of steel cut oats and honey without complaining about it, and lets me walk out the door with only a hug and a smile. It’s a good day.

Rosalie is at my locker before homeroom, which only makes it better.

“Hey you,” she says. “More new clothes?”

I toss my bag into my locker and tug a little self-consciously at the zip on the hoodie. “Yeah- I think Esme’s chucked all my old stuff out.”

“Well, you look good.” Rosalie grins and bumps me with her shoulder.

I hug her and she rests her head against me for a moment. The two of us together feels so natural; I don’t know that I’ve ever felt this comfortable with another person this quickly.

We sit together in homeroom, and then Rosalie heads off towards a science lab and I duck into the restroom near the library before math class. I take a leak and then zip my pants, thinking more about getting to math than about who else is in the bathroom. A mistake, as it turns out.

I think it’s a joke at first, when Royce’s two friends grab my arms and Royce looms in front of me. He can’t seriously be planning to rough me up? But there’s no trace of humour in his face when he hisses, “I told you to stay the fuck away from her.” And there’s definitely nothing joking about the fist he lands in my gut with enough force to leave me completely winded. Nor about the flurry of blows he follows up with, all landing with painful force on my ribs and belly while his friends hold me upright and restrained.

“I don’t want to see you with her again, you fucking piece of shit,” Royce grunts. “Get it?”

I don’t say anything. Can’t say anything, since I can’t even breathe under the weight of his violence. But he’s turning away and his friends drop me carelessly, and I know he thinks this is done.

I should just let it go. He’s purposely hit me where it won’t show, so no one has to know. And he’s got football player bulk and muscle, not to mention two goddamn henchmen like he’s some mob boss in this bathroom…there’s no way this is ending well for me. But I am just so _fucking_ tired of being shit on… I lunge at his retreating back.

He’s not expecting me, that’s clear. But if there’s one thing my life has given me it’s the ability to take a beating and get back up, and so I’m on my feet and in his face before he has a chance to react. I land a couple of hard, satisfying cracks, but it doesn’t last long – there are three of them and I absorb another hit to my belly and one to my cheek, before there’s a hard fist against my jaw that sends me reeling backwards into the sinks and down to the floor.

I’m not getting up this time. I don’t black out completely, but I hit my head on something on the way down and everything is screaming red with pain. I don’t move when one of them kicks me, or when I hear them leaving. It’s only when I feel the blood dripping down my face that I force another shallow breath into my lungs and slowly sit up.

_Damn, that hurts!_

I can definitely feel where he’s hit me, but I can breathe now and despite the pain in my torso I don’t think he’s broken any ribs. My biggest concern is where I’ve cracked my head on the corner of the sink on the way down- that was just bad luck, but judging by the growing stain on my t-shirt from the blood running down my face it’s going to be a problem.

I stagger to my feet and squint at myself in the mirror, wincing when I see the gash running up my forehead and into my hair. There isn’t going to be any hiding _that._ Grimacing with the pain I grab a wad of toilet paper and hold it against my head in an ineffective attempt to contain the blood.

 

 

There’s a banging on the door, and someone shouts, “I’m coming in!” before pushing it open. It’s Ms Lane, the principal, and she looks mad.

“I’ve just had Royce in the office. He said you hit him and when he pushed you away you hurt yourself. I don’t know what happened here, but …let me see that,” she demands, and I reluctantly peel the soaked toilet paper away from the wound. Mrs Lane sighs heavily and grabs another ream of toilet paper. “Put this on it too – you need the nurse.”

At least no one is around in the halls to see me as I trudge after her down to the office.

“What did you do to yourself?” the nurse asks, snapping on some gloves and peeling the sodden toilet paper off my head. “How did this happen?”

“Hit my head,” I mutter. “Fell in the bathroom…ouch!”

“Sorry.” The nurse swaps the bloodied toilet paper for a clean towel. “I’m afraid you’re going to need stitches.” She touches the spot on my cheek where Royce hit me. “Have you been fighting?”

“No.”

She gives a disbelieving snort. “I wasn’t born yesterday. Hold that towel, I’m going to have to give your parents a call.”

She disappears, and Mrs Lane frowns at me. “What happened? Royce said you hit him, and he had witnesses that corroborated that. What are you going to say about it? Did you hit him? I’d like the truth please Emmett.”

“Yeah,” I say flatly. “I hit him.”

“That’s it? You hit him? No explanation?”

“No.” I don’t bother trying to explain any further. Royce has already gone in with his bullshit story and buddies to back it up, and they’re never going to believe me that I didn’t start it. Why would they?

Mrs Lane shakes her head. “Well, I’m disappointed in you Emmett, I expected a lot more than this…” She lectures for a bit longer but I’m not really listening. My head is throbbing and my ribs are aching, and all I can think about it is that even though this wasn’t my fault, I’ve fucked everything up yet again.

Esme is coldly furious when she arrives, and I flinch away from her anger. “Fighting Emmett? With everything else going on in your life…fighting? Let me see what you’ve done.”

I want to tell her _I didn’t do it,_ but in the face of her displeasure with me I can’t even find the words. I lift the towel to show her the gash on my head and she shakes her head. “Well, that’s a mess. I’ll take you to the hospital.” She speaks briefly to Mrs Lane and then beckons me to follow her.

“I don’t even know what to say to you,” she says in the car, driving towards the hospital. “Kate Lane said that you attacked another student. What on earth possessed you to hit someone?”

“I dunno,” I mumble. I want to tell her about it, but she’s mad at me and Royce lied about it and I know I fucked up, and it all seems like a mess I don’t know how to start untangling.

“Well you had better start thinking of an explanation for this, because a second school suspension in a month is not looking good for you!”

I don’t say anything and I guess Esme gives up on me because she lapses into silence too. Even at the hospital she says very little as we wait to be called into a treatment room, although she does get up at one point and bring me a juice from the vending machine.

“You look very pale; drink this.”

I’ve only just finished and tossed it in the bin when I’m called. It’s a young doctor who’s so short that I feel like I have to slump in the chair so he can see the top of my head. “How did you do it?”

“I fell and hit a sink on the way down.”

“You hit it hard then.” The doctor touches the spot on my jaw where Royce hit me. “It looks like you had someone help you fall. Did you lose consciousness?”

I shrug. “Not really.”

“How do you feel now? Dizziness? Headache? Ringing in your ears?”

“A bit.” My head’s split open, of course I have a headache!

The doctor sighs. “I have to clean this, and then we’ll use some staples to close it.”

He gets to work numbing the skin. A few minutes later, while he’s washing it out, the curtain is pushed aside and Carlisle comes in. “Excuse me Karl, they paged me that my wife was here with my son…what’s happened?”

“It’s a head wound,” the other doctor tells him. “Possibly mild concussion. I’m just cleaning it and thought I’d staple it.”

Carlisle leans over to inspect me. “Sounds good, I’ll give you a hand with the staples. Emmett, what did you do?”

“Someone started beating on me, so I hit him back and then he punched me again, and I hit my head against the sink when I fell.”

“Someone else started it?” Esme says sharply. “You didn’t tell me that.”

I shrug helplessly. “You were so mad…”

“Emmett!” Esme sounds exasperated. “Of course I was angry when Kate said you admitted to starting a fight! Why didn’t you explain your side to her?”

“Royce had already gone in and told her I started it, and he had his buddies there backing him up. She’s not going to believe me that the three of them fucking jumped me in a bathroom!” I say in frustration. “There wasn’t any point in trying to defend myself!”

“I think we need some more information here,” Esme says. “Can you please explain what happened? From the start?”

“It’s Royce. Rosalie’s ex-boyfriend,” I say wearily. “He doesn’t want to let her go, I guess…he threatened me a little while ago if I didn’t stay away from her. I _haven’t_ stayed away from her, so I suppose he thought he’d make me sorry for that and this morning he followed me into the bathroom and had his two goons hold me while he beat me up. When they let me go I hit him back, so he punched me in the face and sent me to the ground. Headbutting the sink on the way down was really just bad luck.”

Carlisle looks furious. “Where else did he hit you?”

“Chest and belly.”

“Stand up and show me.”

I get laboriously to my feet and Carlisle pulls my t-shirt up to my neck, revealing a couple of broad red patches and purpling bruises on my chest and stomach, one of which, on my ribs, is the same size and shape as a footprint.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters. “I assume this hurts – is the pain worse when you breathe?” His hands press gently against my ribs. “Does this make it hurt more? Can you move this way?”

“You jabbing at it hurts, but the rest of it is fine. It’s not broken,” I say.

Carlisle shakes his head and looks at the other doctor. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have just barged in with that. Can you be sure to document those bruises in his file please? I want photos.”

I sink back into the seat and the doctor goes back to working on my head. He cleans it and then shaves around the cut, and I hope he’s not taking too much off. He takes a couple of photos of my head and my bruised body, then Carlisle leans in and it feels like someone is holding my head together while the other one bashes staples into it. It doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t feel good either.

“I’m going to be sick.”

Carlisle grabs a plastic dish and holds it in front of me just in time to catch me puking my guts up. The retching hurts my ribs even more, and I struggle to keep upright and steady under the wave of nausea and dizziness.

“Done,” the other doctor says, stepping away and starting to stuff all the rubbish into a biohazard bin.

“Okay?” Carlisle asks, before taking the dish away. “You can go and rinse your mouth at the sink.”

I feel a little bit better after I’d rinsed my mouth and gulped down a couple of cups of cold water. Esme gets a face washer from somewhere and wipes it gently across my jaw and neck, which feels stiff with dried blood. “You look a little less like you’ve escaped from a horror movie now,” she murmurs.

“Keep the wound dry for the next twenty-four hours,” the doctor tells me. “After that you can wash around it carefully. Keep the dressing on for a coupe of days and I suppose you can ask Carlisle if you’ve got any questions. Come into the clinic on Friday and we’ll take the staples out.”

He confers briefly with Carlisle and Esme before leaving, and I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the sink, wishing I could lie down. My head is pounding, my ribs hurt, and I’m just so tired… “Can I go home now?”

“Yes, go home,” Carlisle says. “Take some Tylenol and rest up; you’ve probably got a mild concussion.”

“I’ll call the school and also let Mara know what’s happened,” Esme tells him, before she takes my elbow and starts steering me out. “Come on Emmett.”

Back at the Cullens I stumble into the living room and lie down on the sofa, resting my aching head against a cushion. Catkin jumps up and sniffs me suspiciously, and I notice that the bloodstain on my t-shirt has spatters from the neck down to the hem. It’s one of my new ones and I’ve probably just ruined it. “I’m sorry,” I say, pulling at it guiltily.

“Take it off,” Esme says. “I’ll see what I can do.”

I close my eyes and listen to Catkin start purring next to my belly. I can see why Alice likes the little cat so much – he’s quite comforting.

“Emmett, I’ve got a fresh t-shirt and some Tylenol and ice for you.”

I force myself to sit up and slip on the new t-shirt and swallow the pills, and then I lie down again while Esme gives me a pack of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel for my head and lays a regular ice pack over the worst bruise on my ribs. At first the ice hurts and I suck in my breath, but after a few moments I start to feel a little bit of blessed numbness and I close my eyes with a sigh. “Thanks.”

“You should have told Mrs Lane what happened at school,” Esme says quietly after a moment. “Or at least told me when I got there to collect you.”

“You were both mad. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Just because someone is angry doesn’t mean they won’t listen to you,” she tells me. “Speaking up and telling the truth isn’t going to make it worse.”

I open my eyes a crack. “Yeah sure. Maybe not for _you_. But the rest of the world? Fuck no - when someone’s mad you just shut up and keep your head down, and get the hell out of there as soon as you can.”

“Oh Emmett.” Esme looks at me sadly. “I guess sometimes I don’t fully understand what it was really like for you. I’m sorry I didn’t keep that in mind today.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m going to call the school and talk to Kate. Is there anything else you need to tell me before I do?” she asks.

I start to shake my head, stopping when it makes it throb. “No. It happened just like I said – they jumped me out of nowhere, as unbelievable as that sounds. I hit back, but only after they hit me first.”

“Well, they’ll be dealt with, believe me. Carlisle and I are both extremely angry about this. It’s criminal assault and we’re going to make sure the school treats it with the seriousness it deserves,” Esme says sharply, before she sighs and pats me on my shoulder. “Don’t you worry about it now though, we’ll take care of it. You just rest, and let me know if you start feeling worse.”

I close my eyes, already feeling half asleep. “How much of my hair did he shave off? Does it look really stupid?”

“Just a tiny bit is gone.” Esme laughs gently, and I feel her hand brush across the top of my head. “The rest of your curls will cover it…no one will even notice.”


	31. On My Side

I spend the rest of the day sleeping and watching tv, alternating Tylenol and ice packs as needed. I hate it, and not just because of the pain…it’s been a long time since someone has done such a thorough beating on me and I don’t like the memories it brings up.

“What happened?” Alice demands as soon as she arrives home and finds me on the sofa. “Show me!”

“I cracked my head,” I tell her. “And you don’t want to see it…it’s gross. They stapled me back together.”

“I do want to see!”

I lift the corner of the dressing and show her, and she screams in a kind of delighted horror. “That’s _disgusting_!”

It might be funny if the noise didn’t go through my head like a sledgehammer. “I told you so.”

Alice stands next to the sofa, looking at me worriedly. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“I’m going to be fine,” I say. “You know I’m tough.”

Although I doubt how tough I am a second later when the doorbell rings and then Rosalie appears, practically radiating sparks of rage.

“Seriously? You hit him?” she exclaims. “What the hell were you _thinking_? Is this supposed to impress me? Because let me tell you…”

“Don’t you be mean to him!” says Alice furiously, standing with a hand possessively on my chest and glaring defiantly at Rosalie. “You go away!”

I’d laugh if my head wasn’t so sore. Tiny Alice squaring up to Rosalie, is a sight that I’m not going to forget anytime soon.

“Can we _all_ stop the noise?” Edward says imploringly, entering the room. “Emmett, even I heard the stories today…what did you do?”

“She’s being mean,” Alice tattles, scowling at Rosalie.

I groan and hold the half-melted pack of frozen vegetables against my aching skull. “Will the lot of you just go away?”

“How about a snack?” Esme comes in with a plate of cookies. “Cookies? And who wants milk?”

“I’ll help you,” Rosalie offers, and she and Esme go back into the kitchen for milk. I drop the soggy ice pack on the coffee table and help myself to a cookie.

I nearly fall off the sofa when Alice turns around and hits me hard in the arm. “Hey!”

“Why did she say you were fighting? You can’t do that or we can’t live here anymore!” I can’t tell what’s stronger, her anger or her fear. “You can’t do anything bad anymore! You have to be good to live here!”

Esme, who has heard this, hastily puts the milk down the table and gathers Alice into her arms. “No hitting, thank you…Emmett is sore enough as it is.”

“Emmett won’t do anything else bad,” Alice says, clinging to her. “I told him not to. We can still live here. I never get in trouble at school.”

“No one is going anywhere.” Esme kisses Alice’s forehead. “You don’t have to be perfect to live here sweetie…remember we talked about how everyone makes mistakes sometimes and that’s okay? Emmett knows not to fight, and no one is angry at him about today.”

“So what happened?” Edward asks, taking another cookie. “Royce was apparently going around telling anyone who would listen that you picked a fight with him. Is that true? You certainly look like you came off worst.”

“He and his friends jumped me in the bathroom before first period,” I say with a sigh. “And yes, I obviously came off worse. There were three of them, and the guy’s built like a gorilla…I didn’t stand a chance.”

“But why?” Edward presses. “That’s crazy.”

I don’t look at Rosalie. “Guess he just doesn’t like my face.”

Edward laughs but lets it drop, and I finish my milk and then gingerly take a horizontal position on the sofa again, since things hurt less when I’m lying down. I can’t see Rosalie, who is sitting on the armchair behind me, but I don’t really care. I’m hurt that she wouldn’t even take a moment to ask me what happened before flying off the handle about it. It’s not the first time she’s jumped to conclusions and overreacted, and it’s not one of her good qualities.

But when everyone else has drifted away she comes and sits on the floor beside the sofa, and there’s genuine sorrow on her face and remorse in her voice when she says, “I should never have believed Royce when he told me you instigated a fight. I _didn’t_ believe him at first, but then you weren’t there, and he had a black eye and he talks a pretty good game…I guess I started to wonder if maybe I _don’t_ know you.”

I look at her. “You know me. This is who I am Rosalie. I know it hasn’t been that long and there’s lots we still have to learn about each other, but…you know me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says steadily. “I’m sorry I doubted you, and I’m sorry I yelled at you, and I’m sorry that this whole thing even happened. I know it’s my fault and I’m so, so sorry about that… Does this change anything?” Her voice catches.

“No.” I reach out and touch her face. “Not with you and I…you didn’t do anything. It’s not your fault he’s a psychopath!”

“But I should have done…something.” Rosalie’s voice is quiet. “I feel like there must be something I could have done to stop it.”

“You’re not responsible for him. And if he didn’t hurt you then you couldn’t have known he would…he didn’t hurt you, did he?” I look at her sharply. She’s said he was pushy, she’s said a few things that make me sure he wasn’t always very nice to her, but she’s never said anything about causing physical pain.

“No.” Rosalie shakes her head, but then says hesitantly. “He didn’t hurt me, but there were times when he would do or say something that made me wonder what he actually _might_ do one day if I pushed him too hard. I didn’t imagine it would be anything like this, but the fact that I’m not surprised says a lot. And I think that’s why I came in here this afternoon ready to crucify you – because I believed that you were completely different and then there was this fight, and it made me afraid that you were really just like him and I’d messed up again. I was wrong…I should have had more faith in you, and in my own judgement.”

“I’m sorry he didn’t always treat you well,” I say.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in it. And I’m sorry that I was so naïve that I didn’t realise how much he manipulated me until it was too late. How badly did he hurt you?” She strokes the bruise on my jaw and then leans forward and brushes her lips across it.

“He laid into me pretty bad on my ribs and belly,” I admit. “I think he meant to hit me where it wouldn’t show. But I hit him back which he wasn’t expecting, and that’s when he belted me in the face. I split my head open when I fell.” I lift the dressing to show her the staples, and she looks sick.

“You look like Frankenstein’s monster. Is the rest of it that bad?” Rosalie slides my t-shirt up and the feel of her fingertips on my bare skin takes my breath away. Her hands on me feel so good that all the aches and pains fade away and for a moment I think that maybe it was worth getting hit.

Rosalie catches me staring at her, and her face flushes as she pulls my t-shirt back into place. “Sorry.”

“No, you don’t have to be.” I hold her hand against my chest, over my heart, and half laugh. “I’m not going to tell you not to touch me! Even now when I’m all over bruises…just be gentle.” And she laughs too, and kisses me, and she might as well have healing powers for how much better she makes me feel.

_______________________________________________________

I have to take a shower in the morning without getting my hair wet, and the combination of getting blood through it yesterday and then sleeping on it has it sticking up in all directions. I can’t even comb it without it bringing tears to my eyes though, so I give up and go out to breakfast.

“I look like you,” I complain to Edward, scooping oats out of the pot. “Like someone without a comb.” I haphazardly slice a banana into my bowl and add a handful of frozen berries, and Esme tips in a scoop of chia seeds as she passes by the canister. It’s going to be delicious and I much prefer going to school with a full belly, but I have a momentary nostalgia for some Lucky Charms without a side serve of Health.

“You should be so lucky,” Edward says, running a hand through his hair.

Alice gazes at me in fascination. “That’s so disgusting…don’t you need a bandaid?”

I look across the table at Carlisle. “I don’t know; do I?” The dressing came off during the night and the staples on my forehead are clearly visible, although the ones in my hair are kind of hidden. “It kept pulling my hair.”

“I’ll put a dressing on only your forehead then; you’re a sight to frighten small children otherwise.” Carlisle scrapes the last of his oats out of his bowl. “Hurry up too, we’ve got an early appointment to talk to Mrs Lane at your school. Alice, Edward is going to take you to school today if that’s okay. Esme will pick you up like usual.”

“Carlisle picked up a second car seat yesterday,” Esme tells me. “It will be easier to keep one installed in each car rather than swapping it over all the time. Once you’ve finished breakfast can you put the new one into the Volvo for me please?”

I go out to the garage and do that, and then come back in to find Alice telling Edward that he has to walk her in so she can show him her desk and her project on tigers and Treehorn, the class parakeet. Edward nods agreeably, and I gently cuff the back of his head.

“Thanks dude.”

“You need to come to this meeting this morning, but you don’t have to stay at school afterwards if you’re not feeling up to it,” Carlisle tells me as he quickly tapes a dressing over the wound in my forehead. “You don’t want to overdo it after a concussion.”

For a moment I’m tempted – I’ll generally pick hanging out at home watching tv and drawing over going to school any time. But I honestly feel fine. I’m already going to have to catch up on yesterday’s work, and if I stay home I won’t see Rosalie, so…“I’m good to go to school.”

I drive to school with Carlisle and Esme, mortified that we’re all going to _another_ meeting with a school principal because I’m such a screw up. My teeth worry at my knuckles until I see Carlisle looking at me in the rear-view mirror, and I pull them hastily away.

Mrs Lane is waiting in reception and ushers us into her office immediately. “Esme and Carlisle, thanks for coming in.”

“Kate, I can’t even begin to tell you how angry Esme and I are about this,” Carlisle says, and his voice is like ice. “Emmett needed medical attention and required staples in his head as well suffering from a concussion.” He passes across a photocopied paper, and I catch a glimpse of the photos of my head and torso. “That’s just to show you the doctor’s report. We haven’t decided yet whether we’re making a police report and having charges pressed; Emmett was assaulted and he has every right to see this prosecuted.”

“I completely understand,” Mrs Lane says. “Whether you go to the police is up to you of course, but I can assure you that I’m taking the situation very seriously. Now Emmett…can you tell me what happened?”

I clench my fists in my jacket pocket so that I won’t put them anywhere near my mouth. “I was just finished in the bathroom when Royce and his two friends…I’m not even sure of their names – John, maybe? I think he’s the running back on the football team. And that other guy, he’s got a shaved head and he plays football too. Tyler? Taylor? Anyway, they held my arms and Royce laid into me. On the body – I’m guessing he didn’t want it to be anywhere people would see if I didn’t tell.”

“Did he say anything? Do you know why this all started?”

“He’s just not real happy that I’m hanging out with Rosalie,” I mumble. “He told me to keep away from her…and I didn’t.”

Mrs Lane looks, if possible, even more unhappy. “Right. Rosalie. Go on please.”

“I hit him back,” I say candidly. “He thought I was out, but I punched him a couple of times before he decked me. I hit the sink on the way down, which is what split my head open, and then they kicked me when I was on the floor. And that’s it.”

“So then Royce came to my office and accused you of attacking him, with John and Tyler as witnesses,” Mrs Lane says thoughtfully. “Why didn’t you tell me your side of things yesterday, Emmett?”

I squirm in my seat. How am I supposed to answer that? Much to my surprise, Esme lays a gentle hand on my arm and says matter-of-factly, “Emmett’s past makes some things quite challenging for him and speaking up in the face of authority, even in his own defence, is one of those things. Given the circumstances yesterday, he didn’t feel confident to speak out.”

This is so embarrassing I can feel my ears burning, but at the same time…Esme gets me, and she’s willing to stand up for me. I wish I could say thank you.

“I think it’s obvious that Emmett’s version of the story is far closer to the truth than whatever story Royce has concocted,” Carlisle says. “The fact that there were three of them, and the extent of Emmett’s injuries, point clearly to the truth that he was not the aggressor. And while Emmett hasn’t been at this school long he’s caused no trouble here, and the records from his previous school show no prior incidents of violence. I don’t believe the same can be said for the other boy.”

Huh. I hadn’t known that…Edward must have known something and told Carlisle.

“I do believe Emmett,” Mrs Lane says with a sigh. “I’ll have the other students in and try to get an admission of guilt. That medical report is not pretty reading, and the consequences of this incident will be severe.”

“They’d better be,” Carlisle says flatly. “I know the situation Kate. Royce King Senior is on the board and I’ve read the financials and am fully aware of how much King money has been given to the school. I sincerely hope that plays no part in the decisions about what happens to the culprits here.”

Mrs Lane lip twists. “You can see the likely difficulty though, Carlisle.”

“I see it, and I don’t care. Esme is on the board too and believe me, we’ll escalate this if we have to. King’s son assaulted Emmett and he’s not buying his way out of trouble with money. My son has the right to attend school free from violence and threats.”

Mrs Lane spreads her hands. “Look Carlisle, I couldn’t agree more. The school policies are clear and I’m going to follow them, but you should be aware that there might be some backlash.”

“We’ll deal with that if it happens,” Esme says briskly. “Hopefully it won’t, but Carlisle and I are one hundred percent behind Emmett and will do whatever it takes to see justice done on his behalf. It’s appalling that he transferred here for better educational opportunities and has had this happen to him. Now Kate, thank you for your time. Carlisle is due at the hospital and I’m sure you’ve got a lot to be going on with.”

“Thank you for clearing everything up,” Mrs Lane stands up and they all shake hands. “I’ll be in touch. Emmett…” she looks at me and gives me a smile. “Next time, feel free to talk to me, okay? Get a late pass from the front desk and head on to class.”

Outside her office, I stand awkwardly with Carlisle and Esme. I don’t know what to say to them. I’ve never had anyone take my back and stand up for me like that.

“Are you okay with all that, Emmett?” Esme asks. “The school policy on violence is clear, and they’ll be expelled for this. You won’t have to worry about them.”

“And I was serious about going to the police,” Carlisle adds. “This is far more than a schoolboy scuffle. Think about it, and we can talk about it more after school.”

“Are you _sure_ you’re well enough to go to class?” Esme persists. “Even if you’d rather just stay home today while Kate deals with them, that would be fine.”

Overwhelmed, I bite on my knuckles. “It’s fine. I’m okay. I just…thank you for all that. I couldn’t…I didn’t know how…” My voice falters.

“Oh sweetheart,” Esme says, just like she’s talking to Alice, and even though I’m a foot taller than her and twice as broad, she wraps me in a hug and squeezes. “We’re just happy that you’re okay, and we want to see that the right thing is done. None of this was your fault.”

Carlisle lays a hand on her back and smiles at me over her head. “Let us know if you need anything today. If you feel unwell, or even if something happens…just give us a call. Okay?”

I nod, and wave goodbye and watch them walk out to the car. _He called me son. Even though this is just temporary…he still said it._ I wonder how on earth I managed to get so lucky in the middle of disaster.


	32. Kind of a Wreck

I hear Royce and his henchmen being called to the office as I get my things out of my locker, but fortunately I don’t run into them. Instead I have to walk into the gym with my late pass while everyone gawks at me. I feel horribly self-conscious; no one can see the bruises under my t-shirt, but I’m moving stiffly, my jaw is bruised and puffy, there’s no hiding the dressing on my forehead, and despite my best efforts to cover the shaved patch the staples in my hair are not exactly invisible.

“Looking at you I’m assuming you’re not participating today?” Ms Blake says, accepting the pass. “And I take it from this that you’ve been to the office this morning?”

“Yeah, I just came from a meeting with Mrs Lane…and I have a doctor note for gym.” Carlisle had written me one and I start digging in my pocket for it.

“It’s fine, just sit down at the side.”

She looks like she wants to ask me questions about what I’m even doing there. It occurs to me that after Royce spreading his story yesterday everyone probably thinks that _I’m_ the psycho and he’s the innocent one.

But as I sprawl out on the bleachers it turns out that Royce has practically done me a favour, because the gym lesson I can’t join in is square dancing and who likes that? So I get to sit on the side and doodle in a notebook while everyone else makes fools of themselves. Well, to be fair the footballers mostly look incredibly uncomfortable, and Rosalie and all her friends are acting like they’re on _So You Think You Can Dance_ and tearing up the floor, so I guess not everyone hates it.

When Ms Blake dismisses everyone, Rosalie immediately comes to my side. “How are you? What happened this morning with Mrs Lane?”

“Carlisle and Esme are out for blood,” I say, wincing slightly as I get to my feet. “I mean, Carlisle is threatening police and everything. But Mrs Lane seems to believe me, and I think she’s taking it pretty seriously.” I shrug. “It’s cool that they’ve got my back and everything, but it kind of feels like a bit much. It’s not like he killed me…I mean, to be fair, the worst of it is the bash on the head and that was an accident.”

Rosalie shakes her head. “Emmett, he beat you up. He seriously hurt you; you can’t just brush that aside.”

I can feel my face flush. “Yeah I know, but…look, my stepdad hurt me worse than that on the regular and no one made a big deal over it.”

For a moment Rosalie just stares at me. “Well someone should have made a big deal over it,” she says softly, reaching up and wrapping her arms around my neck. “God Emmett…you really need people who do the right thing by you.” And she kisses me, briefly and fiercely, before she pulls away. “I’ve got to go and get changed. I’ll see you later.”

I spend the rest of the day feeling conspicuous, but do what I can to shrug it off. I have to keep reminding myself that I didn’t do anything wrong. Especially at lunch time, when the word goes around that the three of them have been expelled and the rest of the footballers realise that if this is true then they’re lost three of their best players.

“You’d think someone had died,” Rosalie mutters to me, finishing her apple and starting to gather up her tray. “It’s not as though the team was that good even with them. Let’s go somewhere else.”

I shovel in the last of my sandwich and drink what’s left of my milk, and then follow her outside. It’s chilly in the courtyard, but I lean against the wall and Rosalie carefully leans into me and it’s not too bad.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” I say with a sigh. “I was getting sick of everyone looking at me like I single-handedly destroyed their chances for glory.”

Rosalie snorts. “There was never going to be any glory! At least not for the team – my cheer squad might win the all-schools championship though.” She laughs, and I wrap her braid in my fist to bring her close enough that I can kiss her.

“You’re beautiful.” I say it to her all the time, and I mean it in so many more ways than just her face.

“I’m so glad you came here,” she says. “It feels wrong sometimes, that your life had to fall apart for me to meet you, and now even being here means you’ve been hurt...but you make me happy Emmett.”

I touch my forehead to hers, looking into the beautiful depths of her eyes, and I smile. Because despite everything – Momma, Alice, the Cullens, Royce, the staples in my head and the scabs on my knuckles– I don’t want to be anywhere else but right here, with this girl in my arms and my heart feeling bigger just at the thought of her.

__________________________________________________

The community centre is a red brick building two blocks from Camden with an attached playground and a mural painted on the front wall, and on Thursday afternoon I find myself standing reluctantly outside. This is not where I want to be. But my orders are clear and with a sigh I open the door and go in.

No one is at the desk so I ring the bell and look at the noticeboard. They do a lot of stuff here – playgroups, parenting groups, classes in computers and yoga and Spanish, other services for families and kids. And counselling, which is why I’m here.

The guy who appears is young, wearing hipster glasses and jeans and a t-shirt. “Emmett? I’m Gavin. Let’s go to my office.”

His office is at the back, small and kind of messy, with two comfortable looking chairs, an old tv, and a bookcase crammed haphazardly with toys and books. A door leads out to concrete yard with a basketball hoop, and there’s a big tub next to it with a few different kinds of balls as well as a baseball bat and gloves tossed carelessly into it. It’s not exactly what I was expecting.

Gavin grabs a water bottle and sits down. I take the other chair, picking up a baseball from the pile and tossing it gently from hand to hand. At least it gives me something to do that might keep my knuckles out of my mouth; my hand is killing me.

“Do you like sports?” he asks, nodding at the ball.

I shrug. “Yeah.”

“What about basketball? Would you like to go outside and shoot some hoops for a while?”

I look at him sceptically. “Aren’t you supposed to make me talk about shit?”

Gavin laughs. “We can talk outside. I want to get to know you a bit today…and sometimes that’s easier if we’re not just sitting here staring at each other. But it’s your call – we can sit in here and I can make you talk about shit if that’s what you want.”

“Hey, basketball sounds good,” I say hastily, digging for a ball and then squeezing it between my hands. “Let’s go.”

“I played in high school,” Gavin tells me once we get outside, sinking a perfect shot from the free throw line. “Too short for college basketball though. Do you play on any teams?”

I miss an easy shot and go for the rebound. “Nah.” For a few minutes we play without talking.

“So what’s going on?” Gavin does a lay up, and then I grab the ball as it comes down and bounce it.

“I don’t know…what did Esme tell you when she made the appointment?”

“Esme? Is that your foster mom that I spoke to on the phone? She said that you and your sister had recently come into care, and that you’d changed schools recently too,” Gavin says. “So you could tell me about that.”

“Oh well, yeah.” I take another shot. “So…my mom uses drugs and my sister took some by mistake. She’s only five, so that didn’t exactly work out well, and then the department came into it and said we couldn’t go home and sent us to live with the Cullens.”

“What’s that like?”

“The Cullens? They’re fine. Carlisle was Alice’s doctor and we knew Esme a bit from the church food pantry. Their kid is kind of a weirdo, but in a good way…he’s teaching Alice to play the piano.” I sink a three point throw.

“It sounds like a lot to be dealing with though. How are things with your mom since you’ve been in care?” Gavin steals the ball, shoots and scores again.

“Not great. My mom’s supposed to be going to rehab and parenting classes and stuff like that, and I don’t think she is. She didn’t show up the last visitation either.” Gavin is right that this is easier to talk about when I’m doing something else and don’t have to look at him. “I call her, but she’s not always good about answering the phone.”

“What about school? Esme said you were at a new school now too?”

“Yeah, I switched from the high school to Camden charter school. I got suspended, and then the Cullens found out that I was failing everything and had dyslexia, so they organised tuition assistance and enrolled me at Camden.” I stop for a minute. “My life really is kind of a wreck when you stop to look at it, isn’t it?”

Gavin laughs. “It sounds like a lot of hard stuff has been going down. And I’ve got to ask…what happened to your head?”

“Oh that.” I touch my head, once again unnerved by the contrast between the velvety shaved hair and the hard metal staple. “This guy at school laid into me…it’s nothing.”

“What were you fighting about?”

“I didn’t start it,” I say defensively. “It’s not like I wanted to start getting into fist fights within a month of starting at a new school! But he was pissed at me because I’ve been seeing this girl that he thinks should still be in to him, and he didn’t really give me a choice.” My next shot hits the rim and bounces back, and I grab the ball and face Gavin. “I’m not that kind of person. I don’t start fights, I don’t have issues, I’m not disturbed…I know Esme wants me to talk to you but I don’t know what she wants me to say. I don’t know what this is supposed to achieve.”

“Toss it here,” Gavin holds his hands up and I throw the ball at him hard. He catches it without flinching and makes a perfect jump shot. “I don’t think there’s anything in particular you’re supposed to say here. As for what we’re supposed to achieve…we’ll figure that out eventually. For now I think it’s probably enough that we meet every week so you have an opportunity to talk about what’s been going on and how you’re dealing with it. Just hanging out and tossing a ball around and maybe talking a bit…no pressure, no expectations. How does that sound?”

 _Not really how I want to spend my afternoons, to be honest._ But at the same time, I know I don’t have a choice and despite the stupid hipster glasses I suppose this dude could be a lot worse. I chase after the ball and throw a long one back to him. “Sure…what have I got to lose?”

__________________________________________________

On Friday Esme picks me up early from school and takes me to the hospital clinic to get the staples out. I’m not looking forward to that, but missing out on a history class and a session in the resource room does sweeten the deal a bit.

“How are things going at school now?” Esme asked. “Settling down?”

I shrug. “People are still talking about the three of them being expelled. The football team are desperate…after making sure I know this is all my fault and I’ve ruined everything, one of them even asked me if I played; said they need someone new and I’m obviously big enough to do some damage even if I am a pussy tattletale.”

Esme looks horrified, and I can’t help laughing. “Honestly I really don’t care! It’s not my problem. And Royce was kind of an ass to a lot of people, so there’s that as well.” I hesitate. “What about you though? And the school board? I heard you arguing with someone on the phone yesterday.”

Esme huffs impatiently. “His father is trying to fight the expulsion but he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. The school policies are very clear, and his son is in flagrant violation of them. Really, Royce Senior should just be grateful you’re not pressing charges, and turn his attention to finding a new school and teaching his son how to behave.”

“He keeps calling Rosalie,” I say hesitantly. “She didn’t want me to say anything to anyone, but considering what he did to me I think she needs to be careful.”

Esme agrees. “I might have a word to Rosalie about it. I know she thinks she’s all grown up now and can handle anything, but a little bit of gentle advice probably wouldn’t go astray here. I know she’s unlikely to talk to her parents about this.”

“They’re hardly ever there,” I say. “Her dad’s a workaholic and her mom hasn’t even been home in the whole time I’ve known her.” The combination of luxury and absence in Rosalie’s life disturbs me.

“Speaking of mothers, I talked to Mara earlier today and she said she’s been in touch with Maddie and she plans to be at the visitation this afternoon,” Esme says. “So you shouldn’t have a repeat of last time.”

I nod silently. I’ve only talked to Momma once in the past two weeks, and she was so strung out she could barely put words together. I’m dreading the visit this afternoon.

However I’ve got to get my head sorted out first. We have to wait for ages in the clinic, so I keep stubbornly working through the DMV handbook and then ask Esme to quiz me on the parts that I’ve managed to read. I do my best to ignore the whining toddlers and the dude that sounds like he’s hacking up a lung over in the corner, and I’m pretty happy with my progress by the time Carlisle appears and beckons us over.

“I didn’t know you’d be working in the clinic today,” Esme says, kissing him.

“I’m not; but it’s my break time so I thought what better way to spend it than saying hi to my favourite lady and extracting metal from Emmett’s head?” Carlisle says cheerfully, leading us to a treatment room. “Take a seat and let me take a look at you.”

I obediently sit down and Carlisle inspects my wound. “That looks great. No issues with taking the staples out today.” He gets busy washing everything and then brings over a metal tool that he shows to me. “Staple remover. This might pull or pinch a bit, but it shouldn’t be too painful. Let me know if you want me to stop.”

It’s pretty uncomfortable, but I just grit my teeth and stare at the pattern on his scrubs (cartoon butterflies and caterpillars) and wait for him to be done, listening to the tinny sound each staple makes as he drops it into a dish.

“There we go,” Carlisle says. “Last one. You’ll need to be careful when you shampoo and comb your hair until it finishes healing, and don’t panic about how red it is now either- the scar will fade. Do you want to see it?”

“I don’t care,” I shrug. “It’s not like I have a lucrative modelling career that’s going to be derailed by a scar.”

Carlisle laughs and washes his hands. “Do you two have time for a cup of coffee?”

We do, so the three of us go down to the cafeteria. Carlisle and Esme order coffee and decide to split a piece of carrot cake, and Carlisle sees me eyeing off the hot food and buys me a roast chicken wrap and a plate of fries. I’ve already eaten school lunch, but I dive right in.

“Thanks, this is really good.”

“If there’s one thing that we can rely on, it’s your appetite,” Esme says cheerfully. “That’s good…you could do with a bit of filling out.”

She’s not wrong; I’m always hungry and now that I have steady access to as much food as I want I’m eating like I never have before. I wouldn’t mind filling out a bit either – my frame is big and broad enough, but there’s not a lot of weight to me yet.

“Have you heard from Maddie?” Carlisle asks as we finish up.

It’s suddenly a lot harder to swallow the last of my wrap. “I haven’t talked to her, but Esme said that she heard from Mara that she was going to be there this afternoon.”

“That sounds good then,” Carlisle says. “I’ve got to get back to work now…I’ll see you tonight my love. Emmett, I hope you have a good visit.”

He doesn’t hope it half as much as I do.


	33. Hurt and Healing

 

Esme and I meet Alice at the elementary school, and when she starts whining before she even says hello I can tell this visit is going to be an uphill battle.

“Please take me home,” she begs Esme as we drive to Mara’s office. “I don’t want to visit! Please can’t I stay with you?”

“You have to visit,” Esme says gently. “I’m sure your mommy really wants to see you.”

“No she doesn’t! She didn’t even come last time,” Alice sulks. “She’s mean. I want to go home.”

So much for my healing knuckles…my fist is in my mouth and I’m already licking blood off my skin. “Alice, cut it out. Esme’s not allowed to take you home; you have to go and see Momma.”

Alice dissolves into tears, I groan and turn back to the front, and even Esme looks a bit rattled.

“Emmett’s right sweetie,” she says. “You do have to visit. I won’t be too far away though; I’m going to run a couple of quick errands and then I’ll be back to pick you up.”

Alice cries as we drive along, cries as Esme pulls up in front of Mara’s office, and cries as I unstrap her from the car seat. “Don’t come in,” I say to Esme in exasperation as I wrestle Alice out of the car, despite her best efforts to resist. “It’ll be easier if I just get her inside myself.”

Esme looks worried, but there’s really not much she can do apart from wave encouragingly as she drives away. Whether Alice likes it or not we DO have to visit. Unfortunately this doesn’t stop her moaning and dragging her feet and in the end I simply pick her up and carry her bodily up the steps. If I can just her inside, this will all be fine.

I may as well have not bothered. Because although Momma is already there it’s immediately obvious that this is totally, definitely, not fine.

Momma looks horrible. Thin to the point of emaciation, her hair is a matted, stringy mess and her skin is badly broken out. She swings around to look at me with pupils so dilated her eyes look black, and when she darts across the room to give me a hug she smells like she hasn’t bathed in a week. It is painfully obvious that she’s been using heavily and is on something now. In my arms, Alice physically recoils.

 _What the hell?_ “Momma…”

“Emmett, can you please take Alice down to the Rainbow room?” Mara says tightly. “I’ll come and talk to you in a minute.”

“She’s trying to tell me I can’t see you today,” Momma says, holding on to my sleeve and glaring at Mara. “So much for fucking keeping families together! I’ve had enough of this shit…you kids are coming home with me now.”

“No, I don’t want to!” Alice cries. “I want Esme!”

Momma turns on her furiously. “Listen you little bitch, you’ll do whatever I fucking tell you!”

I’m caught between the two of them, with Momma looking borderline insane and Alice twisting in my arms and kicking at me, leaning as far back from Momma as she can get. “Let me down!”

It’s either put her down or drop her. She runs to the far side of the room, dodging the hand that Momma reaches out to grab her. “No!”

“Momma…” I try and calm her down. “Don’t do this! Come on…”

“Emmett, I need you to take Alice to the other room. Now,” Mara says firmly. “Maddie, you can’t be here in this state. You know that. Today’s visit is cancelled and you need to leave before I call security.”

Momma starts screaming and swearing at Mara, so loudly that Alice puts her hands over her ears. I stand like I’m petrified…what am I supposed to do? It’s only when Alice starts screaming too that I force myself into action, tearing myself away from Momma’s grip and crossing the room to grab her into my arms.

“Make her stop,” she sobs, burying her face in my chest. “Make her go away.”

“Get Alice out, Emmett!” Mara orders, and with one last look at Momma I go.

I stumble into the Rainbow room and down onto the couch in there, hugging Alice while she clings to me.

“I told you I didn’t want to come!” Alice says accusingly, before she wraps her arms around my neck and cries into my shoulder. “Can we go home now? Can you call Esme? _Please._ ”

“In a minute.” My hands are shaking and I don’t think I can even find the phone and dial, let alone keep my voice under control when I talk to Esme. “Let’s just…wait and see.”

I can still hear Momma screaming in reception, and I have to fight to stop myself flinching as the noise rises. I listen, wishing I could hear what’s going on as I hear a deeper voice joining in, but there’s a final flurry of shouting and then quiet falls.

“Stay here,” I tell Alice, lifting her off my lap. “I’m just going to go and see what happened.”

Mara meets me in the hallway. “Emmett, are you and Alice okay?”

“What the hell is going on?” My voice is shaking. “Where’s Momma?”

“Come into my office for a moment.” Mara steers me towards her office. “I’ve just had security come and get your mom to leave. I’m sorry that today didn’t work out, but being sober is rule number one for visitation and you could tell that your mom wasn’t today…”

“She was completely fucked up!” I run a hand through my hair, wincing as I inadvertently pull on the newly healed scar and feeling desperate. It’s obvious to me that Momma is spiralling out of control.

Mara sighs. “I don’t really know what to tell you. I’m working with your mom, but she’s been using heavily and is resistant to the idea of treatment.”

“This is all your fucking fault,” I mutter furiously. “Momma might have been using drugs before this, but she didn’t…didn’t do it like this until you said Alice and I couldn’t go back home! This wouldn’t be happening if I was still there to stop it!”

“Emmett, you’re not responsible for your mom’s drug use. Not when you were at home, and not now,” Mara says firmly. “Maddie’s choices are her own.”

“That doesn’t help when she’s going to end up fucking killing herself with that shit!” I explode.

I don’t realise Alice is behind me until I see Mara’s eyes dart past me, and I feel sick when I swing around in the chair and see Alice’s tear stained face.

“When is Esme coming?”

“Soon, Monkey,” I say over a choking lump in my throat. “I’m just going to call her.”

“I’m going to wait at the front,” Alice says, and vanishes.

“I’ll call Esme,” Mara says gently as I reach into my pocket for the phone. “I want to talk to her. You should go and give Alice a hug.”

Alice is leaning against the glass of the front window, thumb in her mouth. She doesn’t look at me as I kneel beside her.

“Hey Monkey…you okay?”

“I hate it here.” Her voice trembles. “I want to go home.”

“I know.” I put a tentative arm around her, and after a moment she turns and leans into me. “I’m sorry it was so bad.”

“I’m never coming here again,” Alice says, her words muffled against my chest. “She’s mean and I hate her.”

I don’t say anything. What can I say? But I sit on the floor and let Alice crawl into my lap and I hold her, both of us very quiet, until Esme appears out the front.

Alice throws herself at her, and clings as Esme carries her into Mara’s office. I stay on the floor, not moving, and trying not to listen to the low-voiced conversation as Mara talks to Esme about what’s happened. I’m so tired.

“Come on Emmett.” Esme touches my shoulder gently. “Let’s go home.”

I follow her silently to the car. I didn’t think it could have been worse than Momma not showing up at all, but this…this was worse. My stomach clenches to the point of pain when I think about how bad Momma looks right now.

Back at the Cullens we’re greeted by the smell of baking, and find Edward spooning cookie dough onto trays. “You’re home early,” he says, adding a little more hesitantly. “Did something happen?”

“It didn’t go that well,” Esme admits. “Why are you baking?”

“My friends are coming over tonight, remember? It’s the first episode of the new season, and we were going to watch it together.” Edward takes in Alice’s tear stained, snot streaked face and the way she’s clinging to Esme with two hands, and then looks at me. I don’t know what I look like, but it’s enough to make him sigh and say, “Or not? Should I cancel?”

“Not on my account,” I mutter. “I’m going to my room…Monkey, what are you doing now?”

“You can try a cookie,” Edward offers, and Alice nods.

“Sit up at the table and I’ll get you some milk too,” Esme says. “Emmett? Do you want some?”

I shake my head. “No thanks.” Seeing that Alice is okay I go straight to my room and close the door behind me, switching on some music and flopping onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow.

_Momma, what are you doing to us?_

I don’t know how long I lie there, just trying to breathe over the pain in my belly and the pain in my knuckles. I don’t know why everything just has to keep getting worse! Momma is doing the exact opposite of what she’s supposed to be doing…Alice and I aren’t going home anytime soon.

A text beeps on my phone. It’s Rosalie. _How did the visit go?_

_Pretty bad._

_I’m sorry. I’ve finished cheerleading practise, do you want me to stop by on my way home?_

I think of Rosalie, of kisses and smiles and someone who cares… _Yes._

She arrives sooner than I expect, knocking lightly before she enters my room and smiles at me. There’s nowhere to sit, and after a slight hesitation Rosalie stretches out on the bed beside me.

“Do I take it that Alice still sleeps in here?” she asks. “Or do you just like ponies?”

I look at the My Little Pony pillow that she’s lying on and laugh a little raggedly. “Well…who doesn’t like a pony? But yeah, Alice still sleeps in here.”

Rosalie touches my face. “You got your staples out.”

“Oh yeah.” I’d forgotten that she hasn’t seen that. “Carlisles says the scar will fade, it’s still not properly healed.”

“It makes you look dangerous.” Rosalie laces her fingers through mine. “What happened this afternoon with your mom?”

I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. “She was wasted. Like…really, really bad. She’s not allowed to visit if she’s like that, but she was screaming at Mara and Alice and then refused to leave. Mara had to get security to throw her out.”

“Oh Emmett, I’m sorry.” Rosalie winces.

“It’s not just that today’s visit didn’t work out,” I say slowly. “It’s not just that she was fucked up either, because I’ve seen that before, a lot of times. But she looked like hell. I think she’s given up on doing anything but getting wasted…I mean, she looked like your typical fucking junkie…” And I roll towards Rosalie and hold her against me, burying my face in her hair for a moment so she won’t see my expression. “I don’t know how to make this better.”

“I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you can do anything to change,” Rosalie murmurs.

“I wish I was still at home with her,” I say. “I know that it was shitty and it’s better for Alice to be here, but…with Alice and I taken away and even that asshole Mark locked up, Momma’s got no one. She was a bit of mess before, but she looks like a complete fucking disaster now!”

“You can’t save her though,” Rosalie says gently. “I know you want to, but there’s nothing you can do. Even if you were there…what could you do? And if she’s doing as much drugs as you think, it would probably be worse for you and Alice than it was. You look after people Emmett, it’s what you do…but you can’t save someone who’s bent on self destruction.”

I know she’s right. I can’t take responsibility for this. But I’ve spent years watching out for Momma and doing what I can to keep our lives going more or less in the right direction despite her flakiness and irresponsibility, and now that I’m not there and she’s falling apart I feel so guilty. I hate feeling so helpless.

“I just wish it were different,” I say, my heart aching. “For me and Alice, and even for Momma too. I know she’s done some really shitty things, and I know no one really understands how come I just keep forgiving her, but…she’s still my mom.”

Rosalie lays a hand on my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is,” I say with a sigh, “Thank you for coming over.” I want to tell her what she means to me, say how much her willingness to accept me and not judge the shitty circumstances of my life matters to me. I want to put into words the crazy way my heart feels just knowing that she’s here with me. But I can’t, and so I put my hand over hers and hold it close against my heart and just hope that she understands.

Rosalie’s hands run down my back and I feel a ripple of pleasure flowing through my skin. I open my eyes to see her inches away, head on the same pillow as me as she stares at me, and I become fully, completely aware of just how closely we are lying together. It takes only the tiniest shift of weight and the slightest bit of pressure from the arms I have wrapped around her to bring her right alongside me as I kiss her.

Kissing Rosalie is like losing my mind. There’s nothing but her and the way she feels, heat and softness and aching desire, and after the afternoon I’ve had I throw myself headlong into it and let myself drown.

_This is so good._

Maybe too good. Kissing while lying on a bed is a whole different experience. Rosalie’s leg is hooked up over my leg and my thigh is pushing in between hers, my erection digging into her hip and one hand in her hair and one curved around her ass to pull her closer. Rosalie’s hands are under my t-shirt, hot against my skin as she presses herself against my leg and makes the tiniest noise of pleasure against my mouth. I don’t even want to think about stopping, and who knows what might happen if there’s not a quick rapping at the door.

Rosalie hastily sits up on the edge of the bed, smoothing her clothes back into place and taking a shaky breath. I lean up on an elbow, wondering if it will be worse to have whoever is coming in see the bulge down my pants or to have Rosalie see me stick my hand into my jeans and rearrange everything. “Yeah?”

“Sorry.” Edward appears, looking utterly mortified. “Esme sent me to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner Rosalie? There are a few other people from school here, and we’re having pizza.”

Rosalie’s flushed face has deepened to red. “Um, yes thank you.”

“Okay, I’ll let her know. And…Esme also told me to leave the door open.” Edward shrugs and gives me a rueful smile. “Sorry.”

I laugh and flop onto my back as he disappears. “Damn.”

“Well that was embarrassing,” Rosalie murmurs, making a face at me.

“Sorry. I don’t know why Esme thinks she has to get involved here.” I feel a twinge of irritability.

“I don’t know…so clothes stay on? Virtue stays intact?” Rosalie sighs and stretches out next to me again, this time careful not to touch me. “Perhaps that’s a good thing. You make me feel crazy.” She looks at me sideways, her cheeks stained a deep, dark red. “I spent a year telling Royce no because I didn’t want to; now here you are and I’m telling _myself_ no because I _do_ want to.”

I groan and roll back towards her, the two of us fitting together like two pieces of a whole. “Don’t say that…you’re killing me!”

Rosalie laughs a little desperately and then kisses me once more, hard, before pushing me away and scrambling off the bed. “Okay, enough!”

“Emmett?” It’s Carlisle, smiling broadly. “Hi Rosalie. Emmett…come with me. You need to see this.”

I leave Rosalie in the kitchen with Edward and follow Carlisle into his room, stopping dead when I catch a glimpse of the bathroom beyond.

Alice is in the tub.

She’s sitting in bubbles up to her neck and she’s laughing as she blows the foam at Esme who is sitting on the floor beside her. And my face splits into a grin even as tears come to my eyes, because this afternoon left me feeling broken and now here is my monkey and somehow…she’s moving forward. I turn to Carlisle, not even caring that he’ll see.

“How did this happen?”

His eyes gleam, and I realise that I’m not the only one who sees how much this matters. “Esme was running the tub for herself, and Alice was hanging over the side playing in the bubbles. Esme said she could hop in if she wanted to and…she did.”

Alice sees me and giggles as she blows bubbles in my direction. “Hi Emmett!”

She rips my heart out…but damn if she doesn’t put it back together again too.

_We’re doing okay, you and I, aren’t we Monkey? No matter what else happens…we’re going to be fine._


	34. A Different Visit

For the ninth consecutive time Edward hits the same point in his piano playing and trips over his own fingers, bringing the music to a discordant stop.

“Come on,” I yell from the living room. “Get it together! I paid for my ticket and I want my money’s worth!”

He plays a dramatic crescendo before giving up and coming into the living room, flopping down onto the armchair. “I need a break.”

“So, are you going to be a professional piano player or something?” I draw a quick caricature of Edward in my sketchbook, wild hair with a top hat perched on top, playing the piano with giant hands.

“Not if I can’t play that piece,” he says gloomily.

“What, is that like a prerequisite?”

Edward laughs. “No. And yes, in an ideal world I’ll continue to play the piano and have someone pay me to do so. What about you? I suppose you’d like to do something with your drawing… Signwriting or something maybe?”

“I’m not that good.” I hate thinking about the future- I don’t know what a dumbass like me is meant to do. Before I can say anything else my phone rings, although when I see on the display that it’s Mara I briefly consider not answering it. I wish I could just ignore it.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Edward says, and I reluctantly pick it up. “Hey.”

“Hi Emmett. I really wanted to check in on you after yesterday- how are you doing?”

“Fine.”

Mara sighs. “It’s okay to _not_ be fine you know; yesterday was pretty bad. I’m really sorry you had to see all that. What about Alice? How is she today?”

“She’s good.” I think of her in the bathtub yesterday and grin. “She’s gone grocery shopping with Carlisle and Esme.”

“Great, I’m glad she’s not too upset. I’m going to send an email to her counsellor about what happened though; do you want me to cc your counsellor as well?”

“I don’t care.”

“All right, I will then. Look Emmett, I think we’re going to have to cancel visitation going forward,” Mara says bluntly. “I don’t like to do it, but Maddie seems in a bad place right now and it’s not doing you and Alice any good to be continually exposed to it.”

“So we wouldn’t see her at all?” My stomach tightens painfully.

“Not until she takes steps to improve the situation, and at the moment she’s not willing to do that. I found her a place at an inpatient rehab clinic but she refused to go, and you could see today that she’s been using a lot,” Mara tells me. “I’m sorry Emmett, but it’s just not safe for Alice to be around her and it’s not good for you either.”

“So that’s it then?” I say in disbelief. “I don’t get to see her anymore?”

“I’m sorry. We want to keep families together and we don’t like separating kids from their moms if we can help it, but the child’s welfare has to be the priority. I think it’s in the best interests of you and Alice to put a halt on regular visits until Maddie can demonstrate a willingness to try and do the right thing.” There’s a long silence. “Emmett? What do you think?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters,” Mara says. “I care a lot about how you’re doing. Unfortunately though, it doesn’t really change the facts. I can understand that you don’t like this, but I hope you can try and understand why we’re doing it.”

“Right,” I say flatly. “Understand.”

“I’m going to call Esme and Carlisle and talk to them about this,” Mara tells me. “But I wanted to tell you myself. Do you have any other questions?”

I say no, and hang up the phone without saying goodbye. I am angry and hurt and terrified for what this will mean for Momma…and at the same time, a very tiny part of me is relieved.

_Thank god I won’t have to do that anymore._

“What was that?” Edward asks.

I don’t always want to tell Edward things. He’s a cool guy and goes out of his way to make me feel comfortable, but I can’t help feeling that my shitty, shameful life is a barrier between us that I don’t know how to get past. How can he ever understand? But he’s looking at me with genuine concern, and I need to talk to someone.

“It was Mara. She wants to cancel the visits because of what happened yesterday. My mom was off her head,” I say in response to his questioning face. “That’s why we were home so early – Momma was whacked out and crazy and Mara made her leave. Now she’s saying that until Momma cleans up her act we can’t see her.”

“And you want to keep seeing her?” Edward says carefully.

“Yes!” I shift restlessly. “I mean…I don’t know. It’s not fair to Alice for Momma to keep screwing her over, and I get that. Alice doesn’t even want to see her anyway. But she looked sick Edward. She’s not doing so great without us, and I can’t just give up on her.”

“What can you do?” Edward asks.

I chew anxiously on my fist. If I could just _see_ Momma and talk to her and make her understand how serious this is! “I need to see her,” I say. “Will you drive me over to the house?”

“I thought you weren’t allowed there?”

“Well, technically…but it’ll be fine. Please?”

Edward looks reluctant. “Carlisle and Esme won’t like it.”

“I know, but they don’t have to know. Or else you can just turn your back while I borrow the keys to the Volvo?”

“Well, that goes from ‘Carlisle and Esme will be mad’ territory to ‘flat out illegal’ territory, so no,” Edward says resignedly. “Okay then, I’ll drive you.”

“You’re a legend,” I say. “Let’s go.”

In the car I give Edward directions to my house. It feels like years since I’ve been there, not weeks, and as we pull into the drive I’m uncomfortably aware of how run down and dilapidated it is. Has it changed, or have I?

For once it’s Edward who looks way out his element. “Are you sure about this?” he asks doubtfully, glancing around at the damaged siding and the rusted, abandoned cars.

“Yeah, but if I’m not out in fifteen minutes call the cops,” I say, adding hastily, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” when I see his look of horror.

“No, but seriously…” he begins.

“Seriously.” I cut him off. “For god’s sake Edward, it’s my mother, not a meth lab! Well…it’s not a meth lab anymore,” I admit, conceding that he does have a genuine reason for concern. “I’ll be fine. But it’ll probably be better if you just chill and wait for me out here.” The last thing in the world I intend to do is take Edward Cullen into my mother’s house. “And do not, under any circumstances, call the cops!”

“Okay,” Edward sighs. “I’ll wait out here. Just…let me know if you need me for anything.”

“Thanks.”

I hurry across the yard, noting that Mark’s truck is still parked there, alongside a couple of unfamiliar cars. The porch is littered with cans and bottles and butts when I jump up there, and the front door is already cracked open.

_Fucking hell Momma, what are you doing?_

The house looks like a garbage dump. I’d thought it was bad last time I was here with Mara and Esme, after the cops had turned it upside down, but this is a hundred times worse. There’s junk and trash and shit _everywhere_ , and the smell of the place makes me wince. Tobacco, weed, stale beer and rotting food…goddamn. I pick my way along the hallway, not looking into my room, and go into the living room. It’s in worse shape than the hallway.

“Momma?” I knock tentatively at her bedroom door, but I’m not surprised when I don’t get a response and after hesitating for a moment I push it open. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness, and what I see makes my heart fall. Like the rest of the house there’s shit spread everywhere, but even in just a glance I can see how much drug kit she’s got in here. Pipes, spoons and lighters and baggies of shit, rubber and even syringes… _sweet Jesus._

Despite the fact it’s mid-afternoon, Momma is asleep on her bed in the middle of it all, with a strange man snoring next to her. At least no one is naked. I ignore him and kneel beside her. Close up I can see how painfully thin she is, and the scabs and sores on her arms makes my stomach tighten painfully. I thought I knew how bad it was…but this is worse.

“Momma?” I shake her by the shoulder, and it’s like all I can feel are bones. “Wake up.”

It takes a few tries, but eventually Momma’s eyes open. Glazed and unfocussed, she doesn’t even seem to recognise me.

“Momma…it’s Emmett.”

“Hey baby,” she mumbles. She somehow manages to sit up, and I watch in growing horror as she automatically goes to her nightstand and starts fiddling with her kit. “Just gotta get myself started…” She injects herself with clearly practised ease, closing her eyes with a long sigh. “That’s good.”

My stomach is so knotted up it feels like I’m being stabbed. “They’re never going to let us come home if you keep doing this.”

“What?” Momma struggles to focus on me. “Come on baby…relax. It’s fine.” She reaches out towards me and completely misses my face, her hand falling uselessly back onto the bed. “They’ve got no right to try and control what I do in my own fucking house.”

“You’re never going to stop, are you?” I say quietly.

“Fuck off Em,” Momma slurs, closing her eyes and slumping back on to the bed. “Just leave me the hell alone.”

There’s nothing else to say. She’s completely out of it, and it’s gut wrenchingly clear that whatever promises Momma made about getting her life together were nothing but hot air. She’s made her choice, and it isn’t Alice and me.

“Let’s go,” I say to Edward as I slide back into the car, and I don’t look back as we drive away.

A few streets away from the Cullens’ house Edward parks, leaving the engine running. “Are you okay?” he asks. “I don’t know if you were planning to tell Carlisle and Esme about where we’ve been, but they might guess that something is up.”

I realise that my knuckles are running with blood in my mouth, and I yank them out with a muffled curse. “Fuck. Do you have a tissue or something?” I’m too sick over Momma to even feel embarrassed.

“Glovebox,” Edward tells me, and I grab a handful and wrap them around my hand.

“Thanks.” I rest my head back against the seat and briefly close my eyes. “What a fucking mess.”

“I guess your mom wasn’t any better today?” Edward says.

“She just shot up right in front of me, so that would be a no,” I say dully.

“Should we have called someone?” Edward asks uncertainly.

“What for?” I shake my head. “No. I’m not calling the cops on her for this, and EMTs couldn’t do anything.”

“Damn. I’m really sorry Emmett.”

“Yeah, me too…I hope you don’t miss being an only child too much, because Alice and I sure as hell aren’t going back home anytime soon,” I say, realising the truth of it. “If Momma can’t even get out of bed without being on something and can’t stay sober for one afternoon a week to visit us…fuck!” I cut off my words before my voice can start shaking.

“I’ve told you, I’m happy for you and Alice to stay as long as you need to,” Edward says. “ _Really_ Emmett, it’s true. I like having Alice around. And you…well, you could be worse.” He grins at me and adds a little gruffly. “It’s kind of nice, the way the family is at the moment.”

For a moment I’m so touched I can’t even speak. It’s crazy, but somehow this uptight, control freak genius has become the best friend I’ve ever had…Alice and I have knocked his whole well-ordered world into chaos, and he’s just so damn _gracious_ about it all. He’s better than I deserve. “Thanks,” I mumble. “That’s really good of you.”

“So what now?” Edward asks after a few moments of contemplative silence.

“Go get drunk and fuck shit up?” I suggest hopelessly.

“I can’t help you there. But if you don’t want to go home right away, I think I know somewhere else.” Edward waits until I nod before he eases the car back onto the road.

He drives us to the opposite end of town, parking outside a huge warehouse. I look at the sign outside and can’t help but grin at him. “Batting cage?”

“When you moved in the only thing you brought with you besides clothes was a baseball bat…I thought this might be a good place to get away from everything for a while.” Edward shrugs.

“I couldn’t have picked something better myself,” I say honestly. “But you know I don’t have any money?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Edward leads me inside and pays for bats and helmets. There’s only one cage free so we have to share, but only a few moments later I’m swinging the bat and slamming the balls coming at me from the automatic pitcher.

I feel better right away. Physical activity always does that for me, and the pitches coming at me are hard and fast enough that I have to keep my mind on batting and can’t let it wander to other things. It feels good to stretch and move my muscles and push myself, and as my first round comes to an end I already feel my heart lightening.

“You have a go,” I say to Edward, swapping places with him. “This was a fucking brilliant idea!”

Edward grins. “I thought you might like it. Carlisle will be disappointed that we came without him though; he loves baseball.”

“Me too,” I say, watching him line up for his first ball. “I always wanted to be on a real team. I guess you probably were?”

“I played Little League and then in a rec league for a couple of years,” Edward says. He hits several balls in a row before missing the last two. “Damn, I’m out of practise. Why did you never play? You’re obviously good at it.”

“Money mostly. And Momma isn’t that good at keeping commitments, so something with regular games and practices was never going to happen.” Thinking about Momma makes my stomach hurt. “Thanks for driving me today,” I say quietly. “I really appreciate it. It was a shitty visit and I kind of wish I hadn’t even gone…but at the same time, I needed to see and you let me do that, and it means a lot. So thank you.”

“What do you think is going to happen?” Edward asks.

I trade places with him and face the pitching machine, thinking briefly of Gavin and his comment that it’s easier to talk when you’re not just staring at someone. “I don’t know,” I say, hearing the satisfying smack of leather against the bat as I swing. “It’s obvious that she’s using more and harder stuff…I’ve never seen her inject before today. I mean I know she did occasionally, and some of her friends did a lot, but she wasn’t doing it in front of me.”

“What about rehab?”

“Mara found her a place but Momma wouldn’t go.” I swing the bat harder. “I really though that Alice and I not being allowed to go home was the wake up call she needed – she was talking like maybe things would change. And it HAS changed…but for the worse. After yesterday and today I don’t think Momma has control over how much she’s using anymore, and I don’t know how that ends. No one can force her into rehab, so what else? Prison? Overdose?”

I’m really sorry,” Edward says again. “At least you know you can stay with us as long as you need to.”

“Carlisle and Esme are pretty amazing,” I say bleakly. “I know we’re so lucky that it’s worked out this way for us and I’m honestly grateful…but I still hate that it all went down like this.”

Edward nods and as we trade places again he says, “Carlisle and Esme understand that though. I know the circumstances are completely different, but we’ve talked about it over the years in regards to my adoption –I love them and I’m happy with the way my life is, but the reality is that the only reason they’re my parents is because my first mother died. It’s okay that I have some ambivalent feelings about their role my life.”

“Are you sure you’re not Carlisle’s biological kid?” I joke. “You sound just like him.”

“I’ve been listening to him talk for a long time!” Edward grins. “But I guess there are worse people I could be like…your turn again.”


	35. Lego and Letting Go

I don’t intend to tell Carlisle or Esme about going home and seeing my mom. I know I’m not allowed to, and the idea of talking about it all over again is exhausting. I know Edward is uncomfortable with the idea of this particular lie of omission but he promises that he won’t tell, and when we get back we only talk about going to the batting cages. I’m pretty confident that we’ve got away with it.

In the end though, I do tell Carlisle. He takes me out driving the following morning, and in the face of his consistent honesty and trust in me it feels disloyal not to offer him the same.

I wait until the driving lesson is over and we’re at a café with coffee for him and a milkshake for me before I say, “I went and saw Momma yesterday.”

Carlisle’s forehead creases. “What do you mean?”

“Mara called and told me that she’s going to cancel the visits from now on. I understand why and I know that it’s bad for Alice to keep getting messed around, but after what happened Friday I didn’t want to just leave it like that. I know, I know…but she’s my mom.” I take a deep breath. “So I got Edward to drive me over there yesterday, while you were grocery shopping. Don’t blame him,” I add hastily. “He only did it because I asked him to, and he didn’t want me to do something stupid on my own. He was just looking out for me.”

I’m braced for anger, but Carlisle just shakes his head and sighs. “You shouldn’t have done that. The rules are there for a reason.”

“I know.” I fiddle with the straw on my milkshake. “But she was so bad on Friday that I didn’t even get to talk to her. I thought, maybe, if I went and saw her…”

“What happened?”

I shrug. “Nothing…I mean, nothing that changes anything.” I swallow hard over the lump in my throat. “Momma is going to do what she’s going to do…and I don’t think that Alice and I are really much of a factor right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlisle says sincerely. “I know how much you wanted to go back home, and I’m really sorry that your mom isn’t doing what she needs to.”

“I don’t want to give up on her,” I say, “But after what I saw when I went home yesterday…I don’t think I have a choice.”

“It’s not giving up on her to take a step back and accept the fact that it’s up to your mom to change things,” Carlisle says. “You’re here whenever she’s ready. But in the meantime Emmett, it’s probably good for you to take a break from that constant turmoil and let yourself just relax. You have a secure home and Esme and I to back you up for a while…you need to look after yourself for a change.”

I nod. “You’re not going to give Edward a hard time though, right? He was really just being nice. And he waited in the car, so he didn’t like…see anything.” I can feel my face getting hot.

“No, I’m not going to scold Edward for doing what he thought was right.” Carlisle gives me a lopsided smile. “And look Emmett, I appreciate your honesty about this situation. I’m glad that you trust me enough to talk to me. However I am going to say…don’t do it again. You’ve got your phone and can call your mom whenever you want to and as soon as she’s sober we’ll arrange supervised visits again, but it’s really not a good idea for you to see Maddie or go out to the house on your own. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Carlisle drains his coffee. “Great. We’re going over to the Hale’s for lunch, so we should get home so we can get ready.”

“Rosalie’s house?”

“Yes. Lily’s back, so they’ve invited us over.” Carlisle laughs at my surprise. “It’s not that unusual Emmett – remember we’ve been family friends since before Rosalie was born!”

That might be true, but it still feels a little odd to be standing on the doorstep of the Hale’s architectural disaster with Alice hanging onto my hand and Edward beside me, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Rosalie’s mom looks like her, tall and very blonde. She hugs Esme and Carlisle and even Edward, and then swoops down and kisses Alice before she grabs my hand.

“Emmett! The one my sweet girl keeps telling me about!” She looks at me appraisingly as my face flames. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Mother!” Rosalie jumps down the last of the staircase, looking appalled. “Can you please stop?”

Lily laughs and drops my hand. “He’s much more photogenic than the last one,” she tells Rosalie. “Your taste is improving.”

I can tell that Edward is holding back laughter, and I’m relieved when the adults head off to the kitchen and leave us alone.

“I am SO sorry,” Rosalie mutters. “My mother suffers from a serious lack of filter.”

I shrug. After what my mom does, am I in any position to criticise? “You didn’t tell me she was coming home.”

“Well I might have, if someone had told me,” Rosalie says lightly. “But she doesn’t really work that way…let’s go downstairs.” She smiles at Alice, who is still clutching my hand. “We’ve got a lot of things to play with.”

“Lego!” I say jubilantly. “I have wanted to play with all that Lego since the first time I came over here…you want to build stuff, right Monkey?”

Alice’s eyes widen at the playroom, but she willingly plops down on the floor with me next to the Lego supply. “We can play with all of this?” she asks.

“Go ahead,” Rosalie says. “Whatever you want.”

“Edward, will you build too?” Alice asks, and Edward shrugs and lowers himself to the floor.

“Why not?”

It’s like being in a toy store – drawers crammed with bricks organised by colour and type, as well as some with Ziploc bags that Rosalie tells us contain all the pieces to a particular set.

“I’ve got the instructions,” she says, pulling open another drawer containing a pile of booklets. “What do you want to build?”

“Nah, I’m good.” I grab a board and start digging through the pieces. “I’ll make something up.”

“Me too,” Alice says. She’s found a selection of doors and windows. “I’m going to make a house.”

“Don’t you want to build something specific?” Edward asks, eyeing Alice and I doubtfully. “It tells you how.”

Both he and Rosalie are flipping through all the instruction booklets while Alice and I are digging straight into the bricks, and suddenly it strikes me as funny and I start laughing.

“There are two kind of people in the world…” I tell Alice with a grin, winking at Rosalie and Edward.

Rosalie laughs. “Well, you can build whatever kind of crazy rogue thing you want – I’m going to make the ice cream stand.”

“Pirate ship!” Edward exclaims, pulling out two Ziploc bags crammed with Lego pieces and held together with a rubber band. “This was always my favourite.” He starts leafing through the instructions.

Alice was the excuse for playing with the Lego, but she gets tired of it pretty quickly and when she finds a basket holding Rosalie’s My Little Pony collection she’s done. It doesn’t stop the rest of us though. I build a robot and then start turning Alice’s half-built little house into a mansion, while Rosalie neatly puts together her ice cream stand and then starts helping Edward with his methodical construction of the pirate ship. While there’s a small part of me that feels mighty foolish for sitting on the floor playing with toys like a little kid, it’s easy and fun and I have to acknowledge how much I am enjoying it. It provides the perfect escape.

It’s interesting to watch Rosalie and Edward too. For all they would say they don’t like each other they work together in surprising harmony, and the complicated build of the pirate ship comes together quicker than I would have thought.

“Why do you keep staring?” Rosalie asks.

“I’m surprised at you two,” I say frankly. “You’re always rolling your eyes and sniping at each other, and yet here you are playing just like buddies.”

They both laugh. “We’ve spent a lot of hours building Lego,” Rosalie admits, handing Edward the pieces for the masts and sails and turning to the next page. “We did eventually reach an agreement on how to do it together.”

“When Carlisle first adopted me, Rosalie’s mum and dad offered to help out with the childcare aspect,” Edward tells me. “I went to Rosalie’s preschool and then whoever was looking after her at the time, Lily or a nanny, would pick us up and I’d play here until Carlisle could come and get me. If he was working night shifts I’d sleep over.”

“When he married Esme it went the other way. She wanted Edward with her, and she offered to take me along too when my mom was working,” Rosalie says. “So the childcare switched to her and was mostly at the Cullens’ house.”

“Did your mom always travel like this?” I know that Rosalie hasn’t seen her mom for around two months before this weekend, and I think that’s weird enough now that she’s sixteen- did she leave her like this when she was little too?

Rosalie is carefully putting pirate hats on minifigures and fitting tiny cutlasses and pistols into their claw hands. “She always travelled, but she used to do a lot more short-term travel photography assignments, rather than choosing her own destinations and staying away for weeks on end like she does now. She also did a lot more portrait work back then.” Rosalie giggles. “She’s always liked Edward…apparently he has an interesting face to photograph. You should get him to show you the portfolio she put together of him over the years. Some beautiful fashions in there.”

Edward groans. “Don’t even ask, Emmett!”

“I wouldn’t laugh either,” Rosalie admonishes me, her eyes gleaming. “You heard my mom say that you’re photogenic - if she stays home long enough I can almost guarantee that she’ll haul you in front of a backdrop and see what she can do with you too.”

“Sweet girl, are you making my photography into a threat?” Lily appears on the stairs, Esme behind her, and she wags a finger reprovingly. “You know I like new faces…I’d love to do a shoot with you Emmett, any time you like.”

“Doesn’t this bring back memories, seeing you all sitting down here playing Lego?” Esme says, coming over and ruffling Edward’s hair affectionately.

“I built a house,” Alice tells her, adding joyfully. “And then I found all these ponies!” She waves her hand at the rainbow army of horses she has around her. “Rosalie has the most fun toys.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Esme says. “But it’s time to come upstairs for lunch now.”

“I’m starving!” Alice jumps up and takes her hand, and Edward follows the two of them and Lily up the stairs.

I hang back a little bit, until they’re mostly out of sight and I can wrap my arms around Rosalie and hug her tightly. “Hey.” As her body softens against mine it’s like I can feel her relax, and I stoop and kiss the side of her neck. “You doing okay? Happy your mom is home?”

“Yes, of course,” Rosalie says quickly, but I don’t miss the twitch in her lip as she says it.

“Hey. You can be honest,” I say. “I want to hear you.”

“Hear what?” Rosalie says. “How can I complain, after what you went through with your mom this weekend? I mean, my mother came home after an extended working holiday and brought me piles of expensive gifts…the horror!”

She laughs, but I hear the quiver in it and I lower my face and kiss her forehead. “It’s not a competition,” I say quietly. “Your life doesn’t have to be the shitshow mine is for you to wish something in it was different.”

And I really mean it – I have seen first hand the way Rosalie’s parents use lavish extravagance to paper over the holes in their relationship with her, and I have seen the way this makes her feel. It doesn’t have to be physical to hurt someone.

“My mother has always preferred interacting with me through the lens of a camera,” Rosalie says distantly. “She’s taken photographs of me my whole life. Hundreds of thousands of images, composed and shot and edited so intensely that she knows every inch of this face better than I know it myself…but she doesn’t see me at all.”

________________________________________________

“What are you drawing?” Alice, freshly bathed and wearing pyjamas, scrambles up onto the sofa beside me.

“Just writing some names.” It’s Sunday night after a long weekend, and I’m tired. Writing out the familiar letters and shapes is comforting.

Alice peers at my sketchbook. “Emmett, Alice, Maddie, Mary Alice,” she reads. “Why did you write my name twice?”

“Mary Alice for grandma, and just Alice for you,” I say, although Mary Alice is her actual name as well.

“You should write Esme and Carlisle and Edward too,” Alice says. She watches approvingly as I add the names to my list, working slowly and methodically so I get the spelling right.

“Don’t forget Catkin,” she says as the little cat strolls into the room and jumps up onto the sofa between us, kneading the cushion with her claws. “Cats are family too.”

I scratch Catkin under the chin as she settles down and starts purring. “Sort of, I guess.”

“There are different kinds of family,” Alice says impatiently. “Like you and me…and Carlisle and Esme and Edward…you can get a different family.”

I wish it were that simple. “It doesn’t exactly work just like that.”

Alice frowns. “You always say like you want to go home to our old house and Mommy…don’t you want to just stay here and have this be our new family?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” I say tiredly. “There are rules.”

“Well, those rules are…they are _fucked up_ ,” Alice says defiantly.

“Monkey!” But I’m laughing at her honestly and her fierceness, and if there’s a deep thread of grief underlying it she doesn’t have to know that.

“It’s true,” she insists. “The rules are so stupid I can’t even believe it! Our mom is mean and she does bad things, and she doesn’t do any of the good mom things either…but no one ever did anything until Esme and Carlisle said we could live here. And we still have to visit her even though she _screamed_ at me and called me a bad name, and that’s so dumb and unfair.”

Alice stops, tears welling in her eyes and her lip quivering, and I push the sketchbook aside and lift her into my lap. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Alice buries her face in my chest, her voice muffled. “It’s only okay if I can stay here.”

I wrap my arms around her and hold her. I can smell the apple shampoo Esme washed her hair with, and I kiss the top of her head and take a deep breath before I say, “I can’t promise you that you’ll stay here forever. But, at least for a while, you don’t have to keep going to visit Momma either.”

“Really?” Alice lifts her head quickly. “I really don’t have to?”

I shake my head. “No. Mara said that until Momma sorts herself out she’s going to cancel the visits.”

“So no visits _at all_?” Alice clarifies. “Not at Mara’s office or not here or anywhere?”

“No. Not until Momma is doing better. And until then she’s not really allowed to…if Momma shows up at your school or something and wants you to go with her, you shouldn’t. Go and tell your teacher, or tell Esme.”

I can’t imagine Momma going to Alice’s school and trying to take her. But Mara says that sometimes parents do crazy stuff when contact is cut off, and she wants Alice to be aware of the possibility and prepared for what she should do if it happens. I know that Esme will probably talk to Alice too, but right now she’s on my lap and the responsibility is mine.

“I’ll run away if I see her,” Alice says, snuggling closer again. “I won’t go anywhere unless you or Esme says.”

“That’s good. Don’t worry about it too much either; I don’t think Momma is going to come to your school and you’re safe here with me and Carlisle and Esme…no one is going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’m so glad I don’t have to visit anymore!” Alice says. “Now I can just live here forever and it will be like Esme really is my mom.”

“It might not be forever,” I say quietly, hugging her more tightly. “But it will be for a while, and no matter what happens you’ll always have me. We’re going to be fine.”

And I’m reassuring myself as much as Alice, as I let go of what _should_ be and try and accept what is. We’re here and home is impossibly far away, but we have each other. _We’re going to be fine._

 


	36. The Special Person Book

I steal the basketball from Gavin and make the jump shot easily. “Oh yeah! Did you see that?”

Gavin laughs. “Yeah okay, you got me…”

“I don’t know what you’re doing for my mental health, but my basketball game has really picked up since I started having sessions with you,” I say cheerfully, going in for a layup. “Maybe you should take up coaching.”

“Maybe you should join a team,” Gavin counters. “Seriously…you enjoy sports and you’re good at them. Some organised activity might be good for you.”

“School’s enough organised activity for me,” I answer. “I’m working like a dog; they’re trying to get me caught up enough to do the SAT with everyone else next spring. And I get to play wiffle ball every Wednesday for community groups.”

“Well that’s something,” Gavin says. “Has there been any word on your mom recently? No visits?”

I bounce the ball and shoot, missing by a mile. “No. I talk to her on the phone sometimes, but that’s it.”

I don’t bother saying that on the rare occasions I manage to get in touch with her she’s never sober. It doesn’t make any difference now. It’s been a month since Mara called off visitation and there’s not the remotest possibility that she’s considering reinstating it.

“How’s Alice doing with that?”

I go after the basketball and toss it back to him. “She’s fine with it. Actually, she pretty much just pretends that her life started the day she moved in with the Cullens. She doesn’t talk about anything that happened before that, and she won’t even touch the phone if she knows Momma is on the other end…she’s called Esme mommy a couple of times.”

Gavin takes another shot. “How are you all handling that?”

“Esme and Carlisle are discouraging her. They keep telling her that they love having her and she’s going to stay with them as long as she needs too, but she has a mommy already and they’re not taking her place. Alice is so freaking stubborn though, and she just doesn’t want to hear it.”

“What about you? How do you feel about that?” Gavin asks.

I shrug. “They’re doing the right thing. I mean Esme _isn’t_ her mom, and she’s not going to magically become her mom just because that’s what Alice wants to happen. Right now Momma’s a mess and no one is talking about us going back to her, but she could turn it around tomorrow. She probably _won’t_ , but she _could,_ and we have to make sure that Alice stays aware of that possibility.” I take my time retrieving the ball and lining up another shot, before I say, “I kind of get where Alice is coming from though. Not that I want to call Esme mom or anything, but living at the Cullens is really starting to feel…like it’s normal. Like it’s home.”

For a brief moment I touch the skin over my knuckles. It’s slightly lumpy and uneven with scar tissue, but the skin itself is whole and healthy. I’m still biting at it when I’m stressed, but that’s no longer often enough to damage it and all the cracks and scabs and rough spots have healed.

“You seem a lot more relaxed; I think it’s good that you’re feeling at home there,” Gaven tells me, bouncing the ball a couple of times and then tucking it under his arm. “I think you’re doing really well…but I’m going to have to kick you out because my next appointment is going to be here soon.”

“Do you play basketball with everyone?” I ask curiously as we head back in to his office.

“Not everyone,” he answers. “A lot of my teen guys like playing ball while we talk, but I do other things. I’ve got a bucket of fidget toys, and I’ll play board games, do some colouring, braid friendship bracelets...whatever people want to do. Whatever helps them start talking.” He flips through his appointment calendar. “Now, Thursday or Friday next week?”

I make another appointment and leave, zipping up my fleece against the cold wind as I wait for Esme. Fortunately it’s not too long before I see the Mercedes turn the corner, and I slide into the front seat with a grin.

“Thanks. Hey Alice, how are you?”

In the backseat, Alice looks at me solemnly. “We’ve been at the church, giving people clothes with the food boxes if they want,” she mumbles.

This is definitely not the cheerful Alice I’d expected to see; she usually adores helping out at the church. I raise my eyebrows at Esme who gives a tiny shrug and says, “Emmett, look in my purse and you’ll find a bank envelope; it’s for you.”

“What’s that for?” I raise my eyebrows when I see the cash in there.

“Allowance. Carlisle and I apologise for not thinking of it before, but Edward’s allowance is paid automatically into his bank account and it just didn’t occur to us that you were missing out. Edward said this morning that he was going to go shopping tomorrow for a birthday present for Alice, and he thought you might like to buy a gift too but didn’t have any money,” Esme says.

“You don’t have to give me money,” I say hastily. “You’ve already bought me so much stuff. And you feed me…the cost of that alone must be making a dent in the retirement fund.”

Esme laughs. “Nonsense. You do chores around the house when you’re asked and you should have some money of your own, for going out with friends or saving up for something you want. We’d like to get you set up with a bank account, but we’ll have to sort out documents for that so you’ll just have to make do with some cash for now.”

It’s an awkward situation, but I don’t want to say no. Having no money at all, ever, completely sucks. Momma wasn’t giving it away that often, but if I asked at the right time she’s open up her purse and half the time she was so wasted she never noticed if I took some anyway. And it’s coming up to my Monkey’s birthday and I haven’t a bean.

“What do you think of that, Monkey? What do you want me to buy you for your birthday?” I ask, looking back at Alice who is sucking her thumb and staring out the window.

All she does is shrug, and I frown slightly. Something is definitely on her mind, and when we get home I drop my backpack in my room and go look for her.

I find her sitting in the living room, stroking Catkin who is stretched out on the floor by the window in a shaft of afternoon sunlight.

“What’s up, Monkey?” I ask quietly.

Alice tickles Catkin under the chin. “It’s my birthday on Sunday.”

“I know.” I look at her curiously. She’s been wild with excitement over having an ice skating party and inviting her friends. It’s all she’s talked about since Esme and Carlisle told her she could do it…so why this sudden turnaround? “Aren’t you looking forward to your party?”

“Yeah, I still want the party. But when it’s your birthday at school you have to be the Special Person in the classroom. That means you get to give Treehorn his parakeet treats and be first in line and you can take the notes to the office…all the fun stuff.” Despite all of this sounding exactly like the kind of first grade junk that Alice usually loves, she looks like she’s describing a funeral.

“So what’s the problem then?” I ask.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Alice crawls over to where she’s dropped her book bag and drags out a heavy scrapbook that she pushes towards me. “All the other things are fun, but you have to do your pages in the Special Persons Birthday book too.” Her mouth turns down and her eyes fill with tears. “Then you get to do show-and-share with your pages in the class. And I really want to do it right, but I can’t! Everybody else has baby pictures and they tell about when they were a baby…but I don’t have any pictures and Esme and Carlisle didn’t know me when I was a baby so I don’t have anything to write.”

“Let me have a look.” I flip through the book. She’s right that there are a lot of baby pictures, but they’re not all newborns in hospital with mom and dad. One kid has a picture of himself as a bunch of cells in a petri dish. There’s one with two dads, one who lives with grandparents, and another one whose photo is on a plane coming over from China after she was adopted. There are other pages that don’t have any baby photos too. I find the instructions the teacher has pasted into the front of the book and read them slowly. “You don’t have to have a baby photo,” I say. “That’s just a suggestion. You can put any pictures you want, and write about anything that makes you special…”

“But I want baby pictures and stories like everyone else!” Alice wails, crumpling into a little heap on the floor in her usual over-dramatic fashion.

I can’t laugh at her though, because I can see how much this matters to her and I know that it’s not about what everyone else has done. Alice doesn’t care about being like everyone else. She’s fixated on the baby pictures and stories because it’s something that she desperately wants…but it’s also something that she doesn’t have and, without Momma on the scene, something we can’t give her.

Esme peers into the room, looking at Alice in concern. “Are you all right Alice? Can I do anything to help?”

Alice lifts up a woebegone face. “You didn’t know me when I was a baby.”

I show Esme the book. “She has to do her pages in this, because it’s her birthday. It doesn’t have to be about when she was a baby, but…” My voice trails off.

I see the dawning understanding on Esme’s face, and then she sits cross-legged on the floor and lets Alice crawl into her lap for a hug. “Well, that’s a tough one. Would you like to call your mommy and see if we can get her to help?”

I can’t help grimacing. That’s not going to work. Fortunately Alice doesn’t even consider it, scowling with a flat out, “No.”

“Well what about Emmett?” Esme suggests. “He might remember something.”

“But he’s not a mom or dad,” Alice sniffs.

I laugh. “Thank god for that! I _do_ remember when you were born though. When Momma told me that I was going to get something to play with and take care of I got all excited because I thought I was getting a dog. I was pretty disgusted when she said it was going to be a baby,” I tell her.

Alice giggles. “What about when I was born?”

“You were tiny,” I say slowly. “I don’t know what you weighed, but you were the smallest baby in the hospital. You had so much hair that Momma put a little hair bow in it right away. And I thought you looked like a chimpanzee, and I started calling you Monkey-face.”

It all comes back to me and I smile at her, wishing for a moment that she could remember the way Momma was with her then. It wasn’t always awful.

“I don’t look like a chimpanzee!” Alice says indignantly.

“Not anymore you don’t, but you did then! We don’t need a baby picture…we can just glue in a picture of a monkey and no one will know the difference,” I tease her.

Alice is laughing. “What else?”

“When you were little your favourite foods were Cheerios and bananas. You liked the Wiggles, and your favourite book was Where the Wild Things Are. Momma used to read it to you every night.”

“Mommy used to read? Really?” Alice asks doubtfully. “She never does that.”

“She really did,” I say. “Every night.” And this time my voice cracks.

“That information is a good start,” Esme says to Alice. “We can take some photos of you now for your page, and you can write about what Emmett’s told you. Maybe we can find pictures on the internet of Where the Wild Things Are and the Wiggles and you could include those too?”

“And a monkey!” Alice laughs hysterically.

“A monkey too,” Esme agrees. “Now, why don’t you go and find your pencils and markers so you can make a start?”

She waits until Alice has disappeared before she reaches across and rubs my shoulder. “Thank you Emmett. She’s so lucky to have you.”

“She doesn’t remember anything good,” I say, staring at my hands. “She thinks that Momma was always…like she is now. And she wasn’t. It wasn’t sitcom perfect like _this_ house, but it wasn’t always all bad either. There were a few years when Alice was little, after Christian left, when it was pretty good. Momma loved her…and she doesn’t remember it.”

“Then you can tell her about it, like you did today,” Esme says gently. “When she’s older and ready to listen, I think it will mean a lot to her to know that she was always loved.”

“She was. Momma really wanted her. I was a mistake, I know that…you don’t get pregnant in high school on purpose.” I give Esme a lopsided grin. “Getting pregnant with me messed her life up. But with Alice, she was married and she wanted to have a baby. She was really excited when she found out Alice was going to be a girl. I went to the ultrasound with her, and afterwards we went straight to the mall and Momma bought all these clothes, little tiny pink things and all ruffles…I was ten and I thought it was _so_ lame, I’d really wanted a brother…but Momma was so happy.”

Esme’s eyes are damp, but she’s smiling at me. “See, you can tell Alice all of those things! In fact, I think we should use this to start a Life Book for her. Children in foster care often lose track of their stories and photos, so a life book is a photo album or scrapbook that they can take with them and add to wherever they go. We can ask Mara about the possibility of getting some baby photos of Alice, and we can make up some pages with stories and photos of her time here with us as well.”

“Alice will like that.”

“I hope so.” Esme shakes her head at me. “You shouldn’t think of yourself as a mistake, either…unplanned I’ll grant you, but not mistake! And whatever the circumstances were, Maddie made the choice to parent you…you were loved too, Emmett.”

“Who loved you? Me? I love you!” Alice comes crashing back into the room with the plastic tub she keeps her pencils and markers in. “Can you write my name all fancy for my page? I want it to look good.”

I grab a pencil and quickly outline her name in block letters that go across the page. “There you go – you can fill the letters in.” I’ve got myself under control enough now to look at Esme. “And thanks…I appreciate what you’re trying to say.”

“Did Edward look like a monkey when he was a baby?” Alice asks, as the piano music stops and Edward comes strolling into the room. She is filling in the letter A with crooked purple stripes.

“I wasn’t there when Edward was a baby either,” Esme says.

“I looked like a small and very angry old man, if the pictures are anything to go by,” Edward says, looking over Alice’s shoulder at what she’s doing.

“Remember that Edward’s adopted? He had his first mother, who was the one who gave birth to him and looked after him when he was a very little boy,” Esme says to Alice. “I became his new mommy when I married Carlisle.”

“What happened to your old mommy?” Alice asks Edward. “Did Mara take you away too?”

“My first mother died,” Edward says matter-of-factly. “So that’s why Carlisle and Esme adopted me and became my new mom and dad.”

“Maybe my mommy might die as well,” Alice says almost casually. “She does bad drugs that make her sick a lot…if she was dead then Esme and Carlisle could adopt me and be my mom and dad too.”

“Alice!”

She looks up at me defiantly. “What?”

“What the hell kind of little sociopath are you? You don’t wish that your mom would die!”

“Emmett.” Esme puts a hand on my shoulder, reminding me to be calm. “Alice didn’t mean it like that.”

I grit my teeth. “Well she shouldn’t have said it then!”

“Don’t be mad,” Alice mutters. “I didn’t mean that I want Mommy to die…I was just _saying_.”

I force myself to take a deep breath. The truth is, I’m not mad. But Alice has just put into words my deepest fear and my most shameful wish.

_I’m so scared you’re going to die Momma._

_But the way it is now, Alice and me living here without you and all your shit…I wish it never had to end._


	37. Alice's Birthday

“Wake up, it’s my birthday!” Alice’s little hands dig into my bicep as she tries to shake me awake. “Emmett, wake up!”

I groan and pull the blanket higher. “What? No…go watch tv.”

“But it’s my birthday!” Alice bounces on the bed. “You have to get up so we can have presents and waffles!”

“Okay…” I sit up and pounce, managing to wrap her up in the quilt like a sausage roll and pin her to the bed before she can wriggle free. “Happy birthday Monkey-face,” I say, and blow raspberries into her neck like I used to do when she was a baby.

Alice is squirming in her blanket burrito, laughing hysterically. “Stop, stop!”

Grinning, I lift up the edge of the quilt and tip her out. “There you go.”

“I’m six now!” Alice is beaming. “I need two hands,” she adds, holding up six fingers. “That’s how you know it’s grown up.”

“Absolutely. Now, what did you say about waffles? And presents for me?”

“Not for _you_ ,” Alice scrambles off the bed. “For me. Carlisle is making waffles and he said when you get up I can have my presents and then we’ll have breakfast. Come on!”

I follow her into the kitchen. Carlisle has the waffle maker going and is frying bacon and eggs as well, while Esme is slicing fruit. Edward, who is still wearing pyjamas and looks like he was dragged out of bed too, is sitting at the piano and when he sees Alice he grins and plays the happy birthday tune to her.

She runs over to him. “It’s my birthday!”

“Happy birthday!” Edward says. “Come sit up here on the piano bench with me and I’ll give you your first present – I wrote you a song.”

“A real song?” Alice climbs up beside him.

“Just music, not words.” Edward’s fingers fly over the keys as he plays a tune, the same thing I’ve heard him playing over the last week. I’d thought all the stopping and starting had been because it was difficult…it turns out that it was just because he was composing the damn thing. The music itself is quick and bright and makes me smile, and even though I know nothing I know that it feels like Alice and that’s perfect.

Alice is delighted. “Look Emmett, it really is my song…it has my name on it.” She shows me the pencilled in sheet music with _Alice’s Song_ written across the top. She turns back to Edward. “Can you teach me to play that?”

“One day,” Edward promises. He catches my eye and blushes a little. “What?”

“I don’t know dude, you’re like a savant or something. But seriously…that was awesome.”

“It was amazing,” Alice declares. “My very own piano song.”

“Here, I bought you this too.” Edward gives her a wrapped present and Alice rips open the paper to find a book.

“Thank you!” She wraps her skinny little arms around him and hugs him, and after a start of surprise he awkwardly hugs her back.

I didn’t wrap my gift, which I feel kind of bad about when I see how much effort Edward has gone too. But Alice doesn’t seem to notice as she eagerly dives into the bag and pulls up the plush unicorn I bought her, hugging it ecstatically. “It’s so soft and beautiful!” she exclaims, and then laughs when I hand her the hand drawn card. “Monkeys!”

The card took hours, carefully drawing and colouring all the monkeys, but it’s worth it when I see Alice poring over every detail and finding all the little things I’ve included for her like the baby monkey in the bonnet and the little monkey petting a one eared, half-tailed cat like Catkin.

“Emmett’s that’s fantastic,” Carlisle says. “Alice, are you ready for a present from Esme and me?”

Alice nods and Esme goes into the garage and comes back wheeling a purple bike with a sparkly seat, a flower adorned basket and streamers on the handlebars. “Happy birthday sweetheart!”

“Oh!” Alice is hopping up and down in excitement. “I love it!” She climbs on the bike, the training wheels holding her upright, and somehow manages to ride it straight into the kitchen table. “Oops.”

“I think bike riding is an outside activity,” Esme says, hastily stepping in to reverse Alice away from the table and straighten the chairs.

“And one that needs a helmet,” Carlisle adds, encasing Alice’s head in a purple bike helmet. “We need to look after your brain!”

“I love my bike!” Alice hugs Esme and then jumps at Carlisle, wrapping her arms around his neck as he catches her and swings her up into his arms. “Can we go and ride outside right now?”

“We’ll go out after breakfast,” Carlisle promises her. “Let’s eat first.”

Breakfast is great and I gobble it down still in my pyjamas, before I go and have a quick shower. I’m keen to get outside with Alice and help her with her bike, but before I can do that I reluctantly pick up the phone and call Momma. It goes to voicemail, which doesn’t surprise me – it’s Sunday morning and it’s early, it would be a genuine miracle to find her out of bed. But it’s Alice’s birthday and she deserves a happy birthday wish from her mother, so I’ll be damned if I’m not going to keep calling Momma all day until I get a hold of her.

“Hey Momma, it’s Emmett…it’s Alice’s birthday today and you need to call her. I’ll try again later if I don’t hear from you.”

I call again an hour later, after watching Alice shriek as she rode her new bike into a fence, into a tree, into the mailbox and then into the gutter, before she finally managed to ride in a wobbly line down the pavement. “Look, look, look, I’m doing it!”

Carlisle and I applaud and holler after her, while Esme takes some photos and a short video that culminates in Alice forgetting to use her brakes and sailing off the pavement and into a bush. I can’t stop laughing.

“Alice, you’re a star!” I haul her and the bike out of the shrubbery. “You’re doing so good!”

“I love my new bike! It is mine for real though, right? Even if we have to go back to our old house…I can keep it?” She looks up at me anxiously.

“Yeah, it’s yours for real,” I reassure her. “No one is going to take it away.” I turn her around and face her back towards the house. “Off you go!”

Alice’s party is going to be at the ice-skating rink, so early in the afternoon we pack up some party decorations and supplies and head off. Even strapped in to her carseat Alice can’t sit still – birthday parties are a big deal in first grade.

“Calm down!” I tell her as I unclip her straps. “You’ll break your neck on a pair of skates if you don’t settle down.”

I may as well have not said anything, and a completely hyperactive Alice manages to drop a bottle of soda and then skid in the spilled liquid and fall into the table while she’s trying to help Esme set up. She bursts into tears and I leave the Cullens cleaning everything up and carry her off to the corner where she sits on my lap and sobs.

“I ruined my party!”

“No you didn’t.” I rub her back. “The party hasn’t even started yet! They’re cleaning it up and there’s plenty more soda.”

“I just want it to be good,” Alice raises a tear stained face to mine. “I never had a party of my own before.”

“I know, and it’s going to be awesome! All your friends said they’d come and you’re all going to have fun,” I tell her. “See, Esme and Carlisle have cleaned up the spill, and your party table is all set up.” Esme has covered the battered skating rink tables they’ve hired with purple cloths, and there are matching rainbow napkins and paper tableware and rainbow balloon arrangements floating above it. It looks beautiful.

Alice leans against me. “I love Carlisle and Esme so much for my party and my bike and everything. This is the best day ever.”

I laugh and kiss her head. “I’m glad you’re having a good day.”

I don’t mention Momma. I’ve called her five times and I’m still hoping that she’ll pick up or call back and at least say happy birthday, but until she does I’m not going to bring it up to Alice if she doesn’t say anything first.

“There’s Rosalie,” Alice says, sitting up.

“Well, you did invite her to your party,” I say, grinning as Rosalie spots us and comes over.

“Happy birthday!” Rosalie smiles, handing Alice a present.

Alice carefully pulls off the fancy ribbons and unwraps the paper to find a jewellery box. Inside is a silver bracelet with little enamel charms hanging off it. “Oh, look!” Alice exclaims, showing me. “There’s a rainbow, and a cupcake and a cat, and a pony, and an ice skate…just like my party! Thank you Rosalie!”

“Do you want to wear it? I’ll help you do it up,” Rosalie offers, and Alice eagerly holds out her wrist. As soon as Rosalie has hooked up the little clasp Alice jumps off my lap and runs over to show Esme.

“I hope that wasn’t expensive,” I say, fiddling with the velvet jeweller’s box that definitely didn’t come from a stand in the mall. “Because she’ll break it, or lose it or…”

“Oh, stop it,” Rosalie says impatiently. “What does it matter? It’s pretty and I thought she’d like it.”

I reach out for her with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I know I’m just supposed to say thank you…but you also know I have money issues and that kid’s had a fortune spent on her today! Her bike, the party…”

“It’s okay.” Rosalie sits on my lap and faces me. “It’s her birthday…she deserves a good day. And for what it’s worth, the bracelet is very strong and the charms are not overly expensive, so don’t worry about it!” She leans forward and kisses me. “I’m pretty sure Esme has had a fantastic time arranging all of Alice’s birthday treats too, so let her spend her money and don’t make her feel bad about it.”

“You’re right.” I guide her face close enough to kiss. “And it’s really awesome to see her so happy.” I look across at where Alice is jumping up and down and waving ecstatically at the first of her guests to arrive.

“I’ve got these too.” Rosalie reaches into her bag and brings out an envelope. “Esme called Mom about a scrapbook or something? Anyway, she did this before she left.”

I peer into the envelope and see a stack of photographs from the photo shoot that Rosalie’s mom did with Alice one day. It’s just Alice against a plain background, like something you might get from the school photographer, except that somehow these pictures are absolutely alive with my sister’s personality. “These look so good.”

“Mom’s really good at what she does,” Rosalie says. “And of course Alice is adorable...the ones with you are pretty good too.”

“Ugh, really?” Alice had loved posing for Lily, but I had steadfastly refused to get in front of her camera until Esme had guilted me into having a portrait done of Alice and I by saying that I could send it to Momma. I flip through the photographs until I find my face, and even though the whole experience had been incredibly embarrassing I have to admit that the resulting photos of Alice and I are great. “Okay…that’s not bad. Esme was probably right about it being nice to have a photo of us, there aren’t really any others for the last couple of years.”

Rosalie giggles. “Mom was lamenting the fact that you wouldn’t pose for her properly.”

“Well, she’ll just have to live with the sorrow,” I say, slipping the photos back into the envelope. “A picture with Alice is one thing, but I’ll leave modelling to the pretty people like you.”

Rosalie makes a duckface at me and laughs. “Because I love modelling _so_ much,” she says dryly. “Anyway, Mom left this morning and who knows when she’ll be back, so you’re safe for now.” She leans her forehead against mine. “Do you still want to give your mom one of the photos?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve called her like five times already today and she hasn’t got back to me. How can you give birth to a whole other person and then not bother to say happy birthday to them?”

“Is Alice upset about that?” Rosalie asks.

“I hope not. She hasn’t said anything anyway.” Over by the table Alice is unwrapping gifts from her school friends and absolutely beaming. “Honestly, between her bike and presents and the party and all the attention this is probably the best day of her life…she’s pretty happy.”

Rosalie kisses me again and then jumps up. “We’d better go over there. I’m sure Esme and Carlisle can do with a couple of extra hands when it comes to serving out food and getting skates on a bunch of first graders.”

Rosalie’s right. Alice was allowed to invite her whole class, and that’s a lot of kids. They all run around screaming while Alice greets everyone as they arrive and unwraps piles of gifts, and then we herd them all over to the tables and they annihilate the food in about five minutes flat. After that I’m kept busy jamming little feet into skates and tying laces and even carrying kids the six feet to the gate of the rink because they can’t walk on the blades. Edward and Esme are doing the same thing, while Carlisle and Rosalie both put on skates themselves and go out onto the ice to help get the kids started. It’s hilarious watching the little ones stagger and slip and slide around.

Once all the kids are sorted I put skates on and go out onto the rink too. Any ideas I had about skating with Rosalie are pretty soon quashed, as I wind up with Alice and several of her buddies hanging off my hands and my jeans and begging me to help them go fast. I don’t mind, dragging them around the ice after me to give them a thrill and just hoping I don’t break anyone’s bones in the process.

Just before the party finishes we get everyone off the ice and back in to shoes instead of skates, and sit down for cake. Esme has created a beautiful cake decorated with cats and rainbows, and my heart catches to see Alice so happy as she blows out her candles. As all the kids take pieces of cake I check my phone one more time, and then go over and give her a hug, reaching over her for a slice.

“Happy birthday Monkey-face,” I say.

Alice kisses my cheek with crumbs all over her mouth. “This is the best birthday ever.”

I laugh and wipe my face, grabbing a second slice of cake and carrying it over to Rosalie, who is standing with Carlisle and Esme.

“Thanks,” she says. “Alice looks like she’s had a great party.”

“Best birthday ever apparently,” I say cheerfully eating cake. “Big call when you’ve had six of them.” I look at Carlisle and Esme. “Thank you so much.”

Before he can say anything Carlisle’s phone rings and he scoops it out of his pocket. “Mara, hi,” he answers. “What’s up? No, I’m at the skating rink for Alice’s party…are you sure? No, not right now…shit.”

“What is it?” I demand, sudden anxiety making my voice rough. Carlisle _swearing_? I’ve never heard him say anything worse than a very mild ‘damn’ on occasion…whatever Mara is calling about it’s not just to wish Alice a happy birthday.

Carlisle doesn’t even look at me as he shoulders past me and out the front door, listening intently. Esme looks after him worriedly and then pushes a cardboard box of party favour bags into my arms.

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious, but I’ll just go and check,” she says distractedly. “Perhaps you can start handing these out to the children...” She follows him out.

As soon as the kids see that I’m handing out party favours I’m inundated by grabbing hands and the next few minutes are a jumble of sharing them out and helping kids find coats. Carlisle and Esme come back in as parents start arriving, but even as they greet them and smile and joke and make sure the kids have outerwear and party favours and that Alice says goodbye and thank you, I can see that something has them deeply shaken up.

“Something’s wrong,” I say to Rosalie, my stomach already in knots. Is it just my imagination or are they deliberately avoiding my eye? “Mara wouldn’t have called on a Sunday afternoon if it wasn’t important.”

Rosalie wraps her arms around me. “It’s probably nothing serious. Carlisle and Esme just want to get the party all finished up.” She kisses me lightly. “I was going to head off home now, but do you want me to stay?”

I shake my head and try and smile at her. “No, you’re right, it’s probably nothing…thanks for coming today.”

“I had a good time!” Rosalie laughs. “Six year old parties are fun- an activity and cake, and I get to go home with a party favour.” She jiggles her little party bag and grins at me.

I smile watching her leave, but I can’t shake the heavy, sick feeling of apprehension. Especially when I see Esme’s face, and Carlisle leaning close and talking to her in low, urgent tones.

“What is it?” I ask. “What did Mara want?”

Carlisle shakes his head. “We’ll talk about it at home.”

“But...”

“At home, Emmett,” he says firmly. “Let’s pack away the rest of this party and go home, and we’ll talk then.”

And I turn away and silently clear the table and wonder just what else has gone wrong now.


	38. What Happened Then

Back at the Cullens, Carlisle and Esme disappear into their bedroom and I help Alice carry her gifts inside. She’s still buzzing with joy and completely oblivious to the overarching tension. All she wants is for me to sit down and look at every single new Barbie doll and colouring book and hair bow. It feels like hours before Esme appears again.

“Alice sweetie, Carlisle and I want to talk to Emmett for a little bit,” Esme says to her gently. “Maybe you could show Edward instead?”

Alice is agreeable enough – she just wants an audience and Edward will do fine. So I leave the two of them sitting on the floor breaking toys out of their plastic packaging, and I follow Esme into the study. She sits on the sofa and pats the seat beside her, and Carlisle pulls out the desk chair and sits on it facing us.

“What did Mara say?” I ask into the lengthening silence. I’ve never known the Cullens to be at a loss for words like this and my anxiety ramps up.

“It’s about your mother,” Carlisle says at last. “The police contacted Mara because they found her body…she’s dead, Emmett.”

Of all the things I thought he might say…this is so unexpected and so absurd that before I can get a grip on myself I actually _laugh._ “What?”

They don’t react to my inappropriate laughter. Esme reaches out to touch my hand but I snatch it away, pressing my teeth hard against my knuckles. “That’s…that’s crazy. There has to be a mistake.”

Carlisle shakes his head. “I don’t think so. They’ve asked that someone formally identify the body, but the police are confident. I spoke to them; they had an anonymous call, and when they investigated they found her body at home.”

“So someone called them…to say there was a dead person in the house? And they’re sure it’s Momma? I mean fuck knows the house is always full of random people,” I mutter. “It could be…anyone.”

“I’m sorry Emmett,” Carlisle says. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

I just can’t wrap my head around it. “How?”

“There will have to be a post mortem to determine the cause of death, but the initial findings suggest that it was possibly an overdose,” Carlisle says evenly.

“Who called them? I don’t get it…why wouldn’t they help her?” I bite down on my fist.

“The call came from a payphone downtown,” Carlisle tells me. “Whoever it was just said that there was a body and gave the address, that’s all. They didn’t give any other details…if it was drug related then it seems likely that they just didn’t want to get involved. Whether they were there and saw it happen or just found her afterwards…we don’t know.”

“I called her so many times today,” I say dazedly. “I thought she should say happy birthday to Alice and I was so mad when she never called back…but she was dead? Like…really?”

“The authorities would like someone to formally confirm her identity,” Carlisle says a little hesitantly. “You’re Maddie’s next of kin, but you’re a minor and Mara said she can do it if you would rather not.”

“We don’t want you to do anything that is going to make this more difficult,” Esme says gently. “If you think seeing her body at this point would be too hard, you don’t have to.”

I stare at her blankly. _More difficult?_ I don’t feel anything except a kind of distant surprise. _Is this really happening?_

“No,” I say slowly. “I want to…I mean, I have to make sure. I just can’t believe…I have to see that there’s not a mistake.”

Carlisle nods. “I understand. I can take you over there now if you’d like. As for Alice…”

“I want to tell her,” I say abruptly. “I want to talk to her, but only after…only when I’m sure.”

Alice… _How do I tell you this, Monkey? What is this going to mean for you? For both of us?_

“I’ll tell Alice that you two are going out to get something for dinner. She’s had a big day; I don’t think she’ll ask any questions,” Esme says, and Carlisle nods in agreement.

“That’s a good idea. Hopefully we won’t be too long, and then we can all sit down and talk it through with her.”

I follow Carlisle out to the garage and hunch silently in the front seat of the Mercedes, gnawing mindlessly on my fist as he drives. “Where are we going?” I ask eventually.

“To the medical examiner’s office at the city morgue.”

The sense of unreality heightens as I remember all the tv and movie scenes I’ve ever seen of people identifying bodies. I think of cold steel tables and sheets pulled back over waxen faces and surly detectives in suits and the knot in my stomach tightens into pain.

But then when it comes down to it, it isn’t even like that. There’s no brightly lit tiled room or sheet covered body behind a curtain. Instead there’s a an office with neutral walls and soft lighting, and I sit at a table with Carlisle and a woman holding a manila envelope, who introduces herself as Diane and says that she’s a grief counsellor.

“Firstly let me say I’m so sorry for your loss. We know what a difficult time this is, and we really want to make this process of identification as easy and straightforward as possible,” Diane says. “So I’m going to talk you through what we have to do here, and then we can take as long as you need.”

I nod, but don’t say anything, and after a few beats of silence she goes on.

“I have a couple of photos for you to look at. There is one of her face, and one of a tattoo. She won’t look exactly the same as she did when she was alive, but there are no marks or injuries or anything graphic. Okay?” Diane places the folder on the table between us. “Once you’ve confirmed identity we can talk about what happens next. There’s no rush, just take a look when you’re ready.”

There’s no reason to rush but there’s no point in waiting either, so without pause I slide the folder closer and open it up, revealing the photo inside. The blank, blue-white face is unmistakeably Momma, but even seeing that and feeling the truth of her death clunk into place doesn’t shake my sense of detachment.

“Yeah, it’s her.”

I flip to the second photo. Momma’s tattoo- my name and Alice’s surrounded by flowers and stars, inked on her shoulder. My name and the stars were done first, by some drunk dude at a party, and are blurred and blown out now but she had a proper artist do the rest of it and the lines are clear and sharp against the odd colour of the skin.

“What’s that bruise from?”

“It’s not bruising. After death, blood will settle in the lowest part of the body, leaving the skin that colour,” Carlisle explains.

“Okay.” I close the folder. “That’s Momma…am I done now?”

“If you could sign these?” Diane gives me some forms and I scrawl my name where she points without reading it. “The medical examiner will have to do some tests to establish what caused your mother’s death, and after that her body will be released to the funeral home and you’ll be able to make arrangements for a funeral.”

Funeral arrangements? I glance over at Carlisle and he nods at me reassuringly.

“We’ll take care of it Emmett, don’t worry.”

“Do you have any questions?” Diane asks.

I shake my head. “I just…I really want to go home.” The featureless office is starting to feel claustrophobic and I get to my feet, heading towards the door. “I can’t…I really have to get outside.” Without waiting for a response, I stumble into the hallway and bolt.

Carlisle catches up to me in the parking lot a few moments later. I’m leaning against the Mercedes and chewing on my fist, and he gently takes it from my mouth, holding onto my hand for a moment longer than necessary.

“Are you okay?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.” I feel like I’m looking at the world from behind glass; I can see and hear everything, but somehow it’s all removed. Nothing seems quite real.

Carlisle unlocks the car and we get in, but he doesn’t drive off immediately. “They should be able to do the post mortem tomorrow,” he says quietly. “Preliminary results will be available fairly shortly after that, although the final report won’t be completed until after toxicology testing is done and that can take anything up to a few months. Her body will be released once the initial exam is done though, so we can make funeral arrangements.”

“It was probably an overdose though, right? Was that what they said?”

“Maddie was found with drug paraphernalia close by and no other immediately obvious cause of death so, especially given her history, an overdose seems the most likely explanation,” Carlisle says. “But there will be a thorough investigation, to make sure that nothing has been overlooked.”

My teeth pick restlessly at my knuckles. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised. The last time I saw her she was so fucked up…what else was going to happen when she refused to stop? But I still don’t…oh fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

“You’re in shock,” Carlisle says gently. “It’s your mother…it’s okay to not really know how to react.”

“Yeah.” I stare out the window as he pulls away from the morgue and we head back towards home. “I guess I have to tell Alice. Damn, what a way to end her birthday.”

“If you wanted to wait until tomorrow morning…”

For a moment I’m tempted, but then I shake my head a little reluctantly. “I can’t. I’m not that good an actor to pretend like nothing is wrong.”

And Alice is perceptive, at least when it comes to me. When we get back to the Cullens’ she’s playing with her new toys in the living room, but when she sees me drop down onto the sofa she comes over to me and frowns suspiciously.

“I thought you were bringing back pizza for dinner?”

“Oh…I guess we forgot,” I mumble.

“We can get pizza delivered for dinner if that’s what you want,” Esme says, coming into the living room with Carlisle. “But Emmett and Carlisle and I need to talk to you first, Alice.” Esme sits on the sofa beside me, and Carlisle sits on the floor at her feet.

Alice picks up on the atmosphere and climbs into my lap, leaning against my shoulder and putting her thumb in her mouth. She looks scared, and my heart lurches. This just seems so unfair…hasn’t she dealt with enough?

“It’s Momma,” I say eventually, realising that Carlisle and Esme are waiting for me to take the lead on this.

“Is it that she forgot my birthday?” Alice asks quickly. “Because I don’t even care Emmett. I had the best birthday ever with my party and my new bike.”

“It’s not that.” I shake my head. “Momma couldn’t have done anything about your birthday because…because she died. Momma’s dead Monkey.”

For a moment all I can hear is the faint sucking noise of Alice’s thumb in her mouth as she turns and buries her face in my chest.

“What was that?” I ask, hearing some muffled words.

“I didn’t _mean_ it to actually happen!” Alice raises terrified eyes to mine. “When I said about if Mommy died I could stay here…I didn’t mean I wanted Mommy to really die!”

I wrap my arms around her “I know that. What you said doesn’t have anything to do with what happened.”

“But I wished and wished that Mommy would stay away,” she whispers to me. “I wanted it to always be just like this, you and me living with Esme and Carlisle and Edward, and no Mommy. I _wanted_ this to happen…everything bad happens because of me.” And her face crumples and I hold her harder as cries.

“It’s not your fault,” I say fiercely. “It’s not, Monkey - sometimes shit just happens. You didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t make things happen just by wishing for them. It’s _okay_ that you just wanted Momma to go away, and it’s _okay_ that you wanted to stay here…fuck it, I wanted that too!”

And even though I think I’m crying too now, mostly all I feel is rage. Because Momma has hurt Alice so much, so many times, and done so much damage…and now she’s dead and it’s still happening.

“This happened because Momma made her own shitty choices, do you understand? You never did anything Alice. You should have had a mom who looked after you, and you didn’t. And that’s her fault, not yours. Momma dying…it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It happened because she did stupid and dangerous things, and this time she went too far.”

Alice cries more then, sobs shaking her skinny little body as I hold her hard against me and tell her again and again that it will be okay. Even though I don’t know that it will be. But she trusts me, and when he tears slow down she wipes her face against my tshirt and looks up at me uncertainly.

“How did she die?” she asks at last.

“Probably drugs,” I say baldly. “We don’t know for sure, but probably that.”

“Will she have a funeral?”

“I guess.” I look over at Esme, who nods reassuring.

“You and Emmett can decide what you want to do about that, and we’ll arrange it,” she tells Alice. “You should have a way to say goodbye to your mommy.”

“Can me and Emmett still stay here with you?” Alice asks, her voice trembling.

Esme has tears glimmering in her eyes. “Of course you can…there’s no reason for you to leave now.”

And Alice cries again, crawling off my lap and into Esme’s open embrace. Carlisle’s arms are big enough to wrap around both of them, and I turn away and bury my face in the arm of the sofa, listening to Alice cry and Esme and Carlisle murmur words of comfort.

Part of me wants to be like Alice, to be able to cry and be hugged and comforted and reassured. But it’s just not that simple. My disbelief is giving way to a bone deep rage that Momma has done this to Alice and me, that she’s put us last _again_ and now she’s gone and we’re alone. After everything else she’s done, after everything she’s fucked up…once again I’m picking up the pieces and fixing up her shit and I hate her for it.

It _hurts._ Anger and confusion and a growing sense of betrayal…I wrap one arm over my head to block out the softness of Carlisle and Esme’s words, and bite on my fist hard, again and again, until all I can feel and think about is the pain of my knuckles. It’s excruciating, but at the same time it’s _easier_ and I embrace it, because anything is better than feeling the way Momma’s death is making me feel.

I don’t know how long I stay on the sofa, wrapped up in my own furious, hurting misery. But I don’t sit up until there’s the gentle pressure of a hand on my shoulder and Carlisle’s voice saying my name.

I lift my head, catching him wince when he sees my hands. It’s only then that I realise that I’ve literally shredded the skin over my knuckles, and I furiously slam my fist into the sofa cushion.

“I am so fucking disgusting.”

“Emmett.” Carlisle grabs my hands, holding them tight in his and looking at me with eyes so full of compassion that I have to look away. “Please…it’s okay.”

“I hate that I do that.” I’m having a hard time catching my breath. “I hate how I feel right now.”

“There’s no right way to feel when something like this happens,” he says softly. “There’s no right away to react. Grief is hard…you’re going to hurt. You have to give yourself time.”

“I’m so angry with her.”

“And that’s okay. It’s normal,” Carlisle says.

“She didn’t have to do this. Okay, she probably didn’t do it on purpose but it’s not like anyone ever forced drugs down her. She could have stopped any time and she _didn’t._ She just kept going…why? Why didn’t she love us enough to stop?” My voice cracks.

Carlisle doesn’t try to give me an answer, and I’m glad. Instead her puts a strong arm across my shoulders and hugs me, and I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, tasting blood on my fist and bitterness in my heart.


	39. Looking For Something

Alice still wants pizza for dinner, so we have it delivered and eat it in the living room in front of the tv. The normality of this, after the chaos of Alice’s birthday and the sucker punch of Momma’s death, feels surreal.

Alice seems to be doing okay, until it’s time to go to bed. She flat out refuses to even lie down in my bed unless I put my pyjamas on and go to bed then too, and too exhausted and overwrought to fight this I do as she begs.

Besides, I need to be near her too…she’s the only family I have left.

After bike riding and ice skating and all her tears I expect Alice to crash easily, but she’s wiggly and restless. I lie flat on my back, staring at the ceiling and feeling all her kicking and squirming and nudges and pokes until I can’t stand it anymore and lay an arm across her to hold her still.

“You need to go to sleep Monkey.”

For a moment she feels stiff and resistant, but then she sighs and creeps closer, snuggling her head into my shoulder. “Emmett, do you believe in ghosts?”

“No. That’s all just made up crap.”

“Some people think they’re really true,” Alice says, lisping slightly around the thumb in her mouth.

“Some people are idiots,” I say, striving for lightness. “There aren’t any ghosts. Are you scared that Momma’s coming back?”

“She was always mad at me,” Alice whispers. “What if she’s still mad, only now she’s an angry ghost?”

“We’ve got enough real problems without inventing more,” I say with a sigh. “There aren’t any ghosts. And I know Momma used to get mad at you, but that wasn’t really your fault.”

“It _was_ my fault that Mara said we couldn’t live at home with Mommy anymore. Because I got sick…if I hadn’t done that then we wouldn’t have come to stay with Esme and Carlisle,” Alice says.

“It was Momma’s fault that you got sick,” I say flatly. “She shouldn’t have left her shit where you could eat it accidently. So it’s her fault that you got sick and it’s because of all the things SHE did that we couldn’t go home. All her drugs, and all the assholes that were always at our house, and all the times she hurt you…none of that should have happened. Momma should have taken care of us like Esme takes care of us now, but she didn’t. And that’s not your fault, and there’s nothing you could have done to fix it.”

I don’t know if I’m talking to Alice or myself now.

“Are you mad at Mommy?” Alice asks.

I shrug. “I guess I am.”

“But you never get mad at Mommy. You always say she can’t help it or she doesn’t mean it or she’s sorry.” Alice’s voice trembles, and I realise with a lurch of my heart that my unusual anger is scaring her.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, turning my head and kissing her forehead. “I don’t know what I feel…I just want you to be okay.”

“I’m sad about Mommy,” Alice says haltingly. “But she…she was so mean and she did…bad things to me and I never, ever wanted to have to go and live with her again. And now that she died I don’t have to be scared that anyone is going to make me go back…is that okay?”

“That’s okay. Whatever you feel is okay,” I say, echoing what Carlisle tried to tell me earlier. “You know…I really love you, Monkey-face. Whatever happens, we’re going to be fine.”

“I love you too,” Alice says, and she bops me on the nose with the plush horn of the unicorn I gave her for her birthday just this morning. I laugh at the unexpectedness of it, and she giggles and does it again. “I’m going to call her Rainbow Smiley Star,” she says. “She’s so beautiful.”

“I’m glad you liked your presents,” I say.

“Oh, it was my best birthday ever!” Alice says enthusiastically, adding in a much more subdued tone, “I mean…until it wasn’t. I’m not talking about Mommy…I just mean that I loved my bike and my ice skating party and Rainbow Smiley Star and my cat cake and that Edward made me my very own song.”

“Of course you loved those things! And I’m happy that your birthday was so good…maybe you should just think about those nice things and try and go to sleep now?” I take the unicorn out of my face and tuck it firmly under her arm. “You’re really tired.”

She is, and now that I’ve hopefully distracted her from the idea of Momma being a vengeful ghost it doesn’t take long before her breathing slows and deepens, and she starts to feel limp and heavy curled up next to me. I lie in the dark and listen to her breathe, and as I wait for the day to be over I wonder bleakly how long it’s going to take me to learn to live with this hurt.

_________________________________________________

I don’t sleep well, and I feel sluggish and tired when my alarm goes in the morning. I drag myself into the shower, and nearly scream with the burn of hot water on the raw skin over my knuckles. I pat them dry with a tissue, grimacing…all that time and effort to heal it and I’ve undone it all in an afternoon.

“Emmett!” Esme says in surprise when I go out to the kitchen with my school backpack. “I wasn’t really expecting you to go to school today…are you sure you feel up to it?”

“I’m going to stay home with Esme,” Alice says. She’s already pulled her chair at the table so close to Esme’s that they couldn’t possibly eat breakfast without bumping elbows, but now she climbs onto her lap. “She said I could.”

“I’m going to school,” I say, helping myself to oatmeal. The last thing I feel like doing is sitting around the Cullens’ house, staring at the walls and thinking about my mother.

Carlisle and Esme exchange worried looks, but I ignore them and keep eating. Edward peels and eats an orange and then looks at me questioningly.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” I put my bowl in the sink and grab my backpack. Before I can leave Alice attaches herself to me like a limpet, wrapping both arms around my neck. The unicorn is jammed in between us, the synthetic fur tickling my chin. “Come on Monkey,” I say. “You’ll be fine with Esme.”

She nods, but her chin in wobbling and her eyes are shining with unshed tears. “Come right home after school,” she whispers. “Or else I might think you died too.”

“I’m not going to die,” I say.

Carlisle comes over and holds out his arms. “Let Emmett go to school now,” he says gently. “Come give me a hug and then we’ll go and find you some clothes for the day.” After another strangling hug, Alice lets him lift her away from me and the two of them leave the kitchen.

“I’ve called her school and left a message for Karen,” Esme says, referring to the school psychologist Alice has been seeing. “I’m hoping she’ll be able to squeeze in a chat with Alice today. I’ll call Gavin and see if we can bump up your appointment too, this is a lot for you to deal with and I’m sure you’d like to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m really fine,” I say a little impatiently. “I just want to get on with things like normal.”

Esme doesn’t look convinced, but I just shrug my shoulders and wave at her, grabbing an apple as I head out to Edward and the Volvo.

“I didn’t think you’d be going to school today,” Edward says as he drives towards school.

I stare out the window. “Yeah, well…what am I going to do if I stay home?”

“If there’s anything I can do, please ask,” Edward says a little stiffly. “I know the circumstances and situation are totally different, but my mother died too and I understand a little of what it’s like.”

Touched by his kindness, and his generosity in always willing to be vulnerable with me, I reach across and tap him lightly on the shoulder. “Thanks dude.”

I regret going as soon as I walk in the door. The noise of a hallway full of kids talking and laughing and slamming lockers goes right into my head, and the behind-glass feeling is back…I feel a million miles away. What am I doing here?

Rosalie is waiting for me at my locker, her beautiful smile fading as I get close enough for her to see my face. “Emmett? What happened?”

I walk straight into her arms, dropping my face so that for a moment all I can smell is the scent of her hair. Being with her, the weight and shape of her pressed against me, her arms around me, and her breath warm against my neck…it’s like all the noise falls away, and the tension leaves my body long enough for me to feel like I can finally snatch a breath. I need this so badly.

“Do you want to…can we get out of here?”

“Cut school?” Rosalie’s eyes search my face. “I never do that. What’s going on?”

“My momma died,” I say abruptly.

“That’s what Mara was calling about?” Rosalie is shocked. “Oh my god Emmett…I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, but I just…I can’t do this. School. I’m going to…I don’t know. I just have to get out of here.”

_Please stay with me._

I want, desperately, for Rosalie to come with me. I want her heart, and her strength, to hold me steady through this pain that feels like it’s breaking me, but I don’t know how to ask. I don’t know how to tell her that I need someone to take care of me for a change.

I turn away and head down the hall, moving fast, shouldering past people who aren’t quick enough to step aside. My eyes are burning and my stomach is so knotted up it’s killing me, but my heart eases, just a tiny bit, when I feel Rosalie’s warm hand wrap around mine.

“Where are we going?”

“Away.” It’s all I can think of, and as we leave the building and move swiftly away from the school grounds I don’t have anyplace in mind. All I want to do is move, feel the cold and the quiet of the outside world, hold Rosalie’s strong hand and try and breathe again. It’s only when we hit the railway line that I realise where I’m heading. Home.

“This way. Careful.”

I lead her along the railway line, moving more slowly now. I might have a destination now, but I’m in no big hurry to get there and Rosalie is not exactly wearing hiking shoes.

“I’m not going to get hit by a train, am I?” she says at last, when we come to the rail bridge over the stream

I laugh a little. “Nah. There aren’t any trains on this line anymore. Me and Alice used to use the railway as a short cut to the 7-11 when we’d go and buy snacks.”

“Are we going to your house?” Rosalie asks.

“Yeah. It’s just a little way on the other side of the river.” I start across the bridge, adjusting my stride to match the railway ties. “Is that okay?”

Rosalie walks on the actual rail, balancing with effortless grace. “Whatever you need…do you want to tell me what happened?”

“The police had an anonymous tip off and they found her dead at home on Sunday morning,” I say. “It was probably drugs. They’ll do an autopsy to be sure, but it’ll be a pretty fucking big surprise if it was anything else.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well…what can you do?” I say rhetorically, coming to the end of the bridge and walking sideways down the embankment, holding out a hand for Rosalie to help her down.

“Is Alice okay?”

“Yes and no. I mean, she’s sad about Momma, and happy that she doesn’t have to worry about leaving the Cullens, and kind of scared that Momma’s coming back as a ghost so you know…could be better, could be worse.” I shrug a little helplessly. “She’ll be okay, but it was a fucking shitty way to end her birthday.”

I don’t know exactly what I’ll find at the house. Approaching from the rear everything looks normal, and I skirt the junk in the yard and climb up the back steps, opening the door to the kitchen.

“Watch how you go,” I say to Rosalie as I step inside, leaving my backpack on the porch. She drops her bag next to it and follows me inside.

The place is covered in trash. I pick up an overturned chair and push it towards the table, and Rosalie shrieks as a rat scurries out from behind a pile of pizza boxes and disappears under the stove.

“Oh my god, sorry,” she mutters, holding her hand over her mouth.

“It’s gone now,” I say. I turn and wrap my arms around her, pressing my forehead to hers and looking into her eyes. “I’m sorry…you don’t have to come inside if you don’t want to.”

Rosalie shakes her head. “I’m fine, I was just startled.” Her blue eyes are troubled. “I didn’t realise…I didn’t know it would be like this.”

“Yeah, well…welcome to my world.” My voice catches. “Although to be fair, it wasn’t anywhere near this bad when Alice I still lived here. Still kind of a shithole, but not so much…house that should be condemned.” The house practically looks like it could be on an episode of Hoarders.

I pick my way through the mess, wandering from room to room. The kitchen, the living room, Momma’s room, my room…I don’t know what I’m even looking for. Information, answers, _something_ …but there’s nothing, and the feeling of hollowness inside me grows.

“I don’t know why I came here.” I sit on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees and head in my hands.

The mattress tilts as Rosalie sits beside me, laying an arm across my back and resting her head against my shoulder. “It’s okay.”

I lie back on the bed, bringing Rosalie with me until the two of us are pressed together in the dip of the mattress. The bed smells dusty and stale, and I close my eyes against the cobwebs I can see in the corners of the ceiling, focusing only on the feel of Rosalie in my arms. “I wish I hadn’t come here. I don’t know, I just want to _understand_ …but I don’t. My Momma’s messed up life…what was the point of any of it? All of her bad choices, and me and Alice and our shitty, fucked up childhoods…what does any of that mean now?”

Rosalie wraps herself around me, murmuring nothing words of comfort, her lips against my forehead. I sink into her, but I don’t open my eyes.

“I am so fucking mad at her for doing this that I feel like I can’t even breathe through it. I’ve always made excuses…Alice said it last night, I always say that she doesn’t mean it, that she can’t help it, that she’s sorry…I’ve always been so fucking ready to forgive, and now she’s dead and I can’t!” Even shut tight my eyes are burning with unshed tears. “Maybe that’s what I wanted to look for here today? That forgiveness that I’ve always felt for her? But it’s not working…I just see how ugly it all was, and the truth is that she fucked me over so bad, and all I can feel now is how much I hate her…”

And the tears spill over, and I’m crying.

Rosalie doesn’t say anything, but she holds me tight and lets me cry into her neck and rubs my back and kisses my head, and it’s as good as it can be. Then somehow I’m kissing back, hot and fierce and demanding, the grunginess of our surroundings and the reason we’re here all but forgotten in the sudden intensity of this desire. _I want you so much._ Rosalie responds in kind, kissing aggressively, opening her legs when I roll her onto her back so that I’m lying in between them, her hands under my clothes and touching bare skin as she pulls me even closer. I lose myself in it, the taste of her mouth and the feel of her body under my hands, the way she says my name and the pounding beat of my heart as she touches me. I’m not thinking anymore. There is just this, just Rosalie, just right here and right now… My hand is inside her bra and she breathes hard into my neck and her teeth nip my earlobe as she rubs me through my jeans. _Oh fuck yes…_ I slide my hand across her belly and into her pants, feeling heat and damp and hearing her involuntary whimper of pleasure, and if I can’t breathe now it’s for a whole different reason.

“No…wait.” Rosalie’s fingers grip my wrist, pulling my hand out from between her legs. “Don’t. Not now.”

“Okay.” I lean away from her a little, breathing hard and looking down at her anxiously. “I shouldn’t have…sorry.”

Rosalie’s hands are shaking. “No, it’s okay; but I think we need to stop before…you know I want to. God, you can _tell_ how much I want to!”

She flushes scarlet, and I can’t help laughing. “Well, it’s not like it’s not obvious how I feel about it!” I’m so hard I’m about to break open the fly on my jeans and every time I move I’m jabbing her in the thigh.

Rosalie laughs too, and then says softly. “I just don’t want our first time to be like this - not here, and not because you’re hurting.” She looks at me intently. “I want it to be right. I love you Emmett.”

“I love you too.”


	40. Make it Better

I roll away from Rosalie and sit up on the edge of the bed, flexing my shoulders and trying to settle down. I know she’s right and that this is not the time or the place, but damn it’s hard to turn away!

“What happened to your back?” Rosalie asks.

“What?”

“Here.” She runs a hand under my hoodie, pushing it up my back until she reveals the patch of lumpy, uneven skin over my shoulder blade. “What did you do to yourself? Are those scars?”

“Yeah.” Without thinking I yank the hoodie back down. I hate it when anyone notices those marks. It’s why I don’t like changing in gym, and why I would rather shower with my back to the wall in the locker room…I feel less vulnerable having my dick out in the open than having anyone asking about my back.

“Sorry,” Rosalie retreats. “It felt different when I was touching you, and I wondered why.”

“No, I’m sorry.” I grab her hand. “It’s just a bunch of scars…my stepdad did it. I don’t usually like to talk about it, but you can see.” I lift my top myself, my stomach tight as for the first time I deliberately show someone the scatter of marks that has marred my back for years.

Rosalie’s hand traces across my skin. “What did he do?’

“I’ve told you he used to hit me. He’d get mad, and just haul off and smack me one whenever he felt like it, but it was…more than that too. He was a fucking sadist who hurt me because he liked it, and he came up with any excuse to punish me. I’d do something he didn’t like, and he’d tell me to get his belt and go down to the basement and wait for him.” Even now the memory of being in that basement, holding the belt and knowing what was about to be coming my way, makes my flesh crawl. “Then one day, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go down there. So I ran off and stayed away the rest of the day and into the night. I don’t know…it was so fucking stupid. Like he was ever going to just let me off…but I tried. For all the good it did. I went back in the end because I was hungry and it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go, and he was waiting for me in my room. He dragged me in to the basement and tied me down and then…he whipped the shit out of me with some electrical cord,” I finish abruptly.

“Oh Emmett.” Rosalie looks horrified. “That’s sick.”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “It was pretty bad. My back was shredded- most of it healed clean after a while, but there were a few bits that scarred…just a fun little souvenir.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven. In the end I was almost glad he did it though, because it became the last thing he ever did to me. Momma kicked him out after that.” I get restlessly to my feet, shoving my hands into my pockets. “She’d been making excuses for everything he did to me for years - he was drunk, I provoked him, he was mad, I deserved it – but even she couldn’t justify him tying me down and beating me until the blood ran.”

“You didn’t deserve any of that,” Rosalie says softly. “You were a kid…no one deserves that.”

“Yeah,” I say bleakly. “I know. And yet I’ve always been so pathetically fucking grateful that she saved me from him in the end and stopped him hurting me…but she let him do it for five years before that. She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t have to give some sadist free rein over her seven year old. She didn’t have to let all those shady guys into our lives after he left either. She didn’t have to start taking drugs. She didn’t have to let Mark the drug dealer move into our house and terrorise Alice. She didn’t have to let us go hungry. She didn’t have to have the state take us away and then do absolutely fucking nothing to get us back. She didn’t have to take so many damn drugs that they ended up killing her…she didn’t have to do any of that, and she did it all anyway. _She fucking did it anyway_.” Rage makes my voice crack, and I clench my fists and thump them against the doorframe.

Rosalie is on her feet now too, grabbing my hands and holding tight between hers, kissing the raw scrapes and scabs on my knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“Now she’s dead, and it should be all over,” I say tightly. “But it doesn’t feel like it is...I feel like she’s fucked my life over and then just skipped out, and I’m left to deal with the fallout. And it’s so fucking hard…” I move into Rosalie’s arms, closing my eyes and holding her like she’s the only thing holding me together. “I don’t want to do this.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she crushes me against her and kisses my neck and holds me until I’m ready to take a deep breath and step back.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I don’t look back as I lead the way out of the house and across the yard and back up to the rail line. We don’t say a lot, but Rosalie reaches out and takes my hand and her grip is warm and reassuring as we walk.

“What do you want to do now?” she asks as we get closer to school.

I shrug. I feel like I’m on some out of control fairground ride, careening between gut-twisting rage, complete numbness, and utter exhaustion…right now all I want to do is get off it. “I don’t know.”

Rosalie takes me to the movies. It’s the early showing on a weekday and there’s almost no one there, so we sit up the back with our feet on the seats and eat candy and drink cokes while we watch superheroes save the world. It’s the perfect escape. No one comes into the theatre at the end of the showing and so we stay there, cocooned in the dimness, saying more with kisses than we do with words. We end up sitting through a second showing, although it’s really only background to what is happening between us, wrapped around each other in the back row.

“You make me crazy,” Rosalie murmurs as the credits roll, sliding off my lap and back onto her own seat.

I make sure no one is looking in our direction and adjust my jeans. “Do you know what you do to me?!”

She laughs, standing up and stretching. “We should probably get out of here. I’ve got cheerleading practise after school, so I’m going to have to go back…if you’re okay?” She looks down and strokes my cheek with a gentle hand. “I’ll skip it if you need me to.”

“No, I’m good. I promised Alice I’d go right home after school anyway,” I say, remembering. “You go and do your thing.”

Rosalie drops me at the Cullens on her way back to school, and I go in to find Alice and Esme decorating cookies in the kitchen. The whole house smells like gingerbread.

“Mmm, that smells great,” I say. “Any ready to eat?”

“We’re decorating them,” Alice tells me, squeezing out three giant blobs of frosting that I think are meant to represent a face. “But you can eat those broken ones.”

“Sounds good to me.” I sample a couple of dismembered gingerbread limbs, which are as good as everything else Esme bakes.

Speaking of Esme, there was no welcoming smile and the look she’s giving me is distinctly frosty. I pause with a mouthful of cookie and look at her questioningly.

“I called the school,” she says. “I wanted to tell Kate Lane what is going on and have her pass the news along to your teachers and guidance counsellor. She told me that you were marked absent; where were you?”

 _Oh crap._ Her manner is very calm, but I know she’s not at all happy with me. My stomach falls. “I’m sorry. I thought I could go but when I got there…it was too much. I skipped. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that you missed a day of school. In the circumstances I didn’t expect you to go. What I _do_ mind is that you disappeared and no one had any idea where you were all day,” Esme says tightly. “I called your phone several times and you didn’t answer and didn’t call me back…I’ve been really worried Emmett.”

I feel even worse, thinking of the phone I’d switched off at the movies and tossed in the bottom of my backpack and forgotten about. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about calling. I was with Rosalie; I turned the phone off.”

“You spent the day with Rosalie?”

I’m not sure if this makes it better or worse for Esme, but I nod. “Yeah. We went to the movies for a while, and just…hung out.” I don’t think I want to tell her about going out to the house, not with Alice there.

Esme sighs, and then she suddenly stands up and hugs me. “Oh Emmett, I’m just glad you’re okay. Of course you’re old enough to look after yourself, but I know you’re upset about Maddie and when I couldn’t get in touch with you I panicked a little…don’t do that to me again, please.” She looks at me intently. “Okay?”

I nod and drop into a seat at the table, picking up the stumpy torso of a broken gingerbread man. “How are you Monkey? Did you have a good day?”

“It was okay.” Alice frosts some more squiggles onto her cookies. “I helped Esme change all the bed sheets, and then I went and saw Miss Karen at school and I told her about Mommy. She says ghosts aren’t real too. And Esme doesn’t believe in them either.” She nods sagely.

“Ghosts are fun to pretend for Halloween,” Esme says, gluing some tiny candies onto a row of gingerbread people. “But we don’t have to worry about them in real life.”

Not the kind of ghosts that Alice is thinking of anyway. The kind of ghosts that trouble us in real life are the ones that we carry inside our own heads; memories are the real things that haunt us.

Trying to push the unwelcome thoughts from my mind I eat the last broken gingerbread man, and then swipe a decorated one. Alice promptly stabs my hand with the pointy end of the frosting tube for my trouble. “Ouch!”

“I said you couldn’t eat them yet!”

“Emmett can eat one,” Esme says. “It will give him strength to deal with the history essay that I know he’s going to work on now.”

She raises an eyebrow at me and I laugh and stuff the rest of the gingerbread into my mouth. “Yes ma’am.”

I struggle with the essay for a while, but don’t get very far. I’m really tired, and having trouble concentrating with the thoughts that keep flitting through my head. I give up sooner rather than later, and retreat to my room for drawing and moodiness.

I hear Carlisle greeting the others in the kitchen when he gets home from the hospital later, and then a moment later he knocks at my open door.

“Emmett? Can I have a chat?”

“Sure.” I lean back against the bedhead and scrape my teeth across my knuckles anxiously. What is it now?

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” Carlisle says hastily, coming in and sitting on the end of the bed. “But Esme told me you spent the day with Rosalie instead of at school and…”

“I’m sorry about that,” I interrupt. “I know I’m not supposed to cut school anymore, and until today I _haven’t_ skipped anything since I’ve been living here but…”

Carlisle holds up a hand. “Hold on. It’s not about cutting school- Esme said she talked about it with you, and that’s fine. It’s more about Rosalie. I’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while, and even if this doesn’t seem like the best time…well, the fact that you cut school to spend the day together indicates that we need to talk about it.”

He hands me a small plastic bag, and when I look into it I’m confronted with a couple of handfuls of condoms and a booklet. _Everything You Need to Know About Sex and Relationships._

I drop the bag onto the bed, my face flaming. “That’s not why we…god, no! We didn’t…skipping school wasn’t about _that._ ”

“Maybe not, but you and Rosalie are spending a lot of time together and it’s important that you know how to look after yourself,” Carlisle says calmly. “I’m not encouraging you to go out and have sex; I think you’re young, relationships can be complicated, and you have a lot going on in your life as it is so. There’s no reason to rush into anything. Having said that, I’ve been a doctor for a while now and sometimes things happen…if and when you make the decision to have sex, I want you to be fully informed and prepared.”

“Uh…okay.” I don’t know where to look.

“I don’t know what your sex education has been like and what you know,” Carlisle says. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the book. “But this is very straightforward and will give you the facts about STDs and pregnancy and what you can do to avoid them, and clear up any misconceptions you might have. I want you to read it, and I’m happy to answer any questions you have as well. The condoms…if you decide to embark on a sexual relationship, you need to use them. Every single time Emmett, I cannot emphasise that enough! Whatever you feel like in the moment unprotected sex is not a chance worth taking, and it only takes once to contract a disease or start a pregnancy. For your sake, and that of your partner, take precautions every time okay?”

I mutter something affirmative.

“They give condoms away free at the hospital clinic. If Rosalie wants to talk about her birth control options she can make an appointment with a gynaecologist – I can give her a name if she needs that. But for you…condoms Emmett, always. Remember, if your female partner gets pregnant then your only option is to support whatever choice she makes, so it’s important that you’re proactive in preventing a situation occurring that you don’t want.” Carlisle absently flips the pages of the book. “I think that’s it. I just want you to be safe and sensible Emmett, and to know that you can always come and talk to me, or even Esme, about anything. We’re happy to help.”

“Okay, thank you,” I mumble. “But I meant it, that Rosalie and I haven’t…” My voice trails off, leaving the word _yet_ unspoken at the end.

Carlisle smiles. “Well, there’s no need to rush into anything either.” He tosses the booklet at me and stands up. “Be informed, and be sensible, and you should be fine.”

He leaves the room, and I take the book and start reading. I’m not completely ignorant, but I figure you don’t know what you don’t know and maybe I can learn more.

It’s also not just an abstract idea. I’m not thinking about having sex with any old person, I’m thinking about doing it with _Rosalie_ and the idea that I might inadvertently do something that ends in her getting hurt in any way is excruciating. If we do this…I want it to be okay.

I think I’m seeing things when she suddenly appears in the doorway though. She must have come straight for cheerleading practise, all long bare legs in booty shorts and a messy ponytail, but she bounces onto the bed beside me and kisses me and she’s real enough.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you,” she admits, pressing her forehead against mine and looking at me steadily. “Today was pretty rough in parts…I wanted to make sure you were okay. Since you didn’t answer your phone, I stopped by.”

I groan. “God, the phone…I still haven’t turned it back on. Sorry.” I tilt my head and kiss her. “It’s good to see you though.”

“Esme invited me to stay for dinner.” Rosalie sits up and tugs at the plastic bag that’s half under her thigh. “What are you…oh my god!” As she pulls the bag free a handful of condom packets tumble out and scatter across the quilt. She looks horrified.

I can’t help laughing despite my mortification, although I quickly sit up and stuff them all back into the bag, dropping it down the side of the bed.

“Something you want to tell me?” Rosalie asks with a raised eyebrow.

“It wasn’t actually me! Carlisle brought them home from the clinic at the hospital and had a bit of a talk…you know, not encouraging but if we do then we should be safe…that kind of thing.” I reach over and touch her face. “I want to do right by you, whatever we do.”

Rosalie’s cheeks are red, but she smiles as she leans forward and kisses me again. “I’ve got an appointment at the doctor on Thursday. I think we should use condoms whenever we get to that, but I also thought it wouldn’t hurt for me to do something too.”

I wrap my arms around her. “I meant it when I said I loved you. Whatever else is going on in my life…you make it better.”


	41. Making Arrangements

I don’t sleep well again. Alice is restless and her tossing and turning keeps me up, and when I finally sleep I drift in and out of dreams that I can’t remember but that leave me feeling sick and terrified when I lurch into wakefulness.

My heart thumping, I creep out of bed and slide the bottom drawer of the dresser out, groping underneath it until I touch the granola bars and crackers that I hid there way back when I first came here. I haven’t eaten any of that food, I haven’t _needed_ to eat any of it, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to throw it away either. Knowing that it’s there now is enough to bring my breathing back to an even keel and ease the feeling of dread that has my stomach in knots.

I don’t want to go back to sleep. The bad dreams are nagging at the edge of my consciousness and I don’t want to risk falling into them again. So instead of bed I go out to the living room and turn on the tv, flipping mindlessly through the channels until the early morning light begins seeping in around the blinds and I have to face another day.

It’s really hard. I’m exhausted and feel like I’m sleepwalking through the school day. I can’t concentrate and spend most of the day drawing and staring out the window, and I guess the teachers have been told to go easy on me because no one says a word. Even the teachers in the resource room, who are constantly on my back every other day, let it slide when I sit and stare at a vocabulary sheet for the entire period without lifting my pen. By the time the final bells rings, the skin on my knuckles is bitten raw.

At the end of the day my name is called over the PA system to go to the front office. When I see Carlisle and Esme waiting for me I nearly panic, and they must see that on my face because they hastily reassure me that Alice is fine and nothing else has happened.

“We have an appointment and we need you to come with us,” Carlisle explains. “I didn’t know if you’d check your phone and get a text, so we had you paged to the office.”

“How did you go today?” Esme asks in concern. “I hope it wasn’t too difficult coming back to school.”

“It was okay.” I try and discreetly wipe the beads off blood off my knuckles onto my jeans, but I catch Carlisle’s eyes on me and I know I’m not fooling anyone. “I survived…what are we doing?”

They wait until we’re in the car, and then Carlisle twists around in the front seat to face me. “The post mortem on Maddie is done and they’ve released her body to the funeral home. We need to make arrangements.”

I feel sick. “What did the autopsy show?”

“It was a drug overdose, as suspected,” Carlisle says steadily. “The full results won’t be back for a while, but the preliminary tox screen was positive. I’m sorry Emmett.”

“Yeah well…it’s hardly a surprise.” I fold my arms to keep my hands out of my mouth.

“Now we need to make some decisions,” Esme says. “Like what you want to do with her body and what kind of service or funeral…have you thought about that at all?”

“No.” I stare out the window, feeling the anger that has been simmering under the surface all day start to bubble. “I don’t care…do we even have to do anything? I don’t give a shit what happens to her.”

I ignore the look they give each other, slouching further down in the seat.

“Something will have to be done with the body,” Carlisle says carefully. “Although whether you want to do a memorial service or funeral, or nothing at all, is up to you. However we also need to consider Alice in this. The closure of a simple service might be best for helping her deal with her grief.”

“Is she grieving?” I say sceptically. “She hated Momma and wanted her to die so she could live with you…it’s all coming up roses for Alice.”

“She’s grieving,” Esme says simply. “She has some conflicting feelings, and a lot of anxiety over what’s happened and what’s going to happen…grief isn’t only sadness Emmett.”

I sigh wearily. “I just think a funeral would be an absolute fucking joke. Who’s going to even come, for one? Her junkie friends? And aren’t funerals supposed to be about celebrating someone’s life and being sorry that they’re gone? Because I don’t think anyone in the world is all that sorry about Momma dying, and what is there to celebrate about her life? All she ever did was have two kids that she treated like shit and screwed over six ways to Sunday, and then she died of a fucking drug overdose…yeah, that’s really going to be a touching eulogy.” My stomach tightens painfully with anger and bitterness.

“You don’t have to have a traditional funeral service,” Esme says. “It’s only for you and Alice, and you could do anything that helps you say goodbye…plant a tree, scatter her ashes somewhere special, have a small prayer circle…”

“Who’s going to pay for any of this anyway?” I demand. “You shouldn’t spend your money on her.”

“Don’t worry about the money,” Carlisle says. “We can cover it. We’ve also asked our lawyer to act on your behalf in dealing with the estate, so she’s going to look into assets and liabilities and see where you stand.”

“Momma had no money and maxed out credit from anyone who was dumb enough to give her a card,” I say flatly. “Do I have to pay that now?”

Carlisle quickly shakes his head. “No. Debts will be paid out of any assets first – and I think your mother owned the house, since she inherited it from your grandparents. If there aren’t enough assets to cover the debt then the creditors will just have to take the loss. If the assets cover the debt and leave something left over, that will go into trust for you and Alice. Either way, the lawyer will deal with it on your behalf.”

“So the house…all Momma’s stuff…”

“We’ll have to do something about that, but there’s no rush,” Esme says. “We want to make this as easy as possible on you and Alice…the lawyer will deal with the legalities, and we can hire people to take care of the practicalities. You just need to tell us what you want.”

“I don’t want anything,” I mutter, staring back out the window. “I just want this to be over with.”

But that’s not an option. Instead we drive to the elementary school and pick up Alice, and then head to a funeral home. It’s all thick carpeting and polished wood and elevator music as we wait in a lobby, until a man in a suit leads us into a small sitting room with a face of professional sympathy.

I sit hunched on the sofa, with Alice beside me and Esme on her other side. Carlisle shakes the director’s hand and accepts his condolences before he takes a seat, and the dude launches into his spiel about burial and cremation and the different kinds of services they offer. Esme and Carlisle gently and simply explain what he means to Alice, while I bite my knuckles and stare at the ground and wish I was anywhere else but here.

I don’t want to make decisions; I don’t think I have any feelings about how I want to say goodbye to Momma right now. But we can’t exactly leave her in the funeral home freezer indefinitely, we have to do something, and so I agree with the first suggestions thrown out. A short service followed by cremation, and we’ll deal with the ashes later. I offer no opinions about what the service should consist of, just shake my head in refusal when asked if I want to do a eulogy or read something. Esme looks concerned over my lack of feeling, but Carlisle accepts it calmly and tells me he’ll take care of it.

Alice wants flowers, and says that Edward knows nice music and he could play something. I don’t know why he’d want to be involved, but I don’t say anything. While I don’t know where she got her ideas, it’s pretty clear that Alice wants a funeral and, remembering what Carlisle said about the closure of it helping her grieve, I want her to do whatever helps her. So we make plans, and I nod and agree and do whatever it takes for this to be over and done with.

_________________________________________________

“Emmett, come on in.” Gavin come rapidly up the path to the community centre and then unlocks the door and points me in ahead of him. “Can you hit the lights? Just over there.”

I flip on the overhead lights while he punches a code into the alarm pad by the front door. At Esme’s request he’s seeing me for an extra appointment, first thing in the morning, and we’re the only people there.

“I’ve turned the heat on, but it’ll take a while to kick in,” he tells me as he leads the way to his office. It’s pouring with rain, so instead of going outside for basketball we both take chairs inside. “Too bad we can’t go outside…but anyway, I’m really sorry to hear about your mother’s death. Tell me, how are you doing?”

I shrug. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure about that? If you don’t mind me saying, you look pretty rough,” Gavin says.

There’s a baseball in the bin of sports equipment beside me and I pick it up and begin tossing it lightly from hand to hand. “Thanks for the compliment.”

Gavin laughs lightly. “You know what I mean. Come on Emmett, let’s get real here; the death of a parent is an incredible stressor in the best of circumstances, and these are not the best of circumstances.”

“I haven’t been sleeping that well,” I admit grudgingly.

“That’s pretty common, and hopefully won’t last long. Is it anything specific keeping you up? Anything in particular worrying you? Are Esme and Carlisle giving you the support you need?” Gavin asks.

“Yeah, they’re fine…they’re taking care of everything. I wouldn’t have had any idea what to do – they’ve done all the talking to the police and the medical examiner and the funeral director and all that.”

Gavin nods. “That’s great that you’ve got that support. It’s not too much though? You’ve talked in the past about feeling like you’re being taken over a little…is that an issue?”

I squeeze the baseball in my hands. “No. I mean, they’re doing what has to be done. And there’s Alice…she seems to want a funeral and flowers and the whole fucking deal, so…” My voice trails off.

“You don’t feel the same?” Gavin asks after a pause. “That’s okay Emmett; there is no right or wrong here.”

“I hate the thought of this fucking funeral,” I mutter. “It’s such a load of shit. Like I’m supposed to go and say how great Momma was and how it’s such a tragedy that she died young and I’m supposed to be all sad and…it’s all bullshit.”

“I don’t think it’s helpful to focus on what you think you ‘should’ be feeling,” Gavin says. “You feel the way you feel…there’s no ‘should’ about it. And with the way things were between you and your mom, it’s completely understandable that your feelings are a little more complicated than just being sad.”

“I’m not sad at all,” I say flatly.

“How would you describe the way you DO feel?”

I watch the rain splattering against the glass door beside me and wish we were outside. “Half the time I don’t feel anything at all,” I say slowly. “Just…nothing. Like I’m watching everything that’s happening through glass.”

“And the rest of the time?” Gavin prompts.

“Angry,” I say at last. “I’m so fucking mad at Momma for doing this, for making me and Alice deal with her shit for so many years and then just checking out. And now we’ve got to deal with that too – it’s just so damn unfair.”

“It is unfair,” Gavin says. “And your anger at the situation makes you pretty normal.”

“That’s why the funeral feels like such a fake thing. I don’t want to pretend…I’ve spent years pretending that the things Momma did were understandable and okay and I was fine with it, but that was all just a load of shit! It was _never_ okay! And now she’s dead and I’m never going to be able to tell her…and she’s never going to be able to fix it…” I can taste blood on my fist, and once again I focus on the pain in my knuckles to distract from the pain in my heart. “She never cared enough about me, or Alice, and in the end she picked getting wasted over getting us back…and that makes me feel like shit.”

“You have every right to feel the way you do,” Gavin says. “No one is going to tell you different. You were dealt a rough hand in a lot of ways, and your mother let you down. It’s okay for you feel angry and hurt, but it’s also important that you also realise that none of that is a reflection on you. Your mother’s choices had nothing to do with you…she didn’t choose because of anything to do with _you_. Addiction is a hard beast to fight, and sometimes people don’t manage to win.”

“I know she didn’t have control over it by the end,” I say. “And it isn’t as though I didn’t consider that this might happen, that she might overdose, -it’s not like it’s totally out of left field. But that doesn’t make it any easier…it’s hard to know that I halfway saw it coming and didn’t do anything to change it.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this,” Gavin says. “We’ve talked about this before- you’re the kid and it was never up to you to save your mom. It’s not possible and it’s unfair to even ask it of yourself…nothing you did caused your mom’s addiction and behaviour, and nothing you did could have changed what happened. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah. But it’s hard to believe it sometimes. Especially when part of me…well, I didn’t wish for this happen, but I didn’t exactly wish it _wouldn’t_ , either, you know?” I say bleakly. “I mean, with no Momma Alice and I stay at the Cullens…we went from having nothing to having everything. Everyone wins. Except Momma…and except the part of me that loved her and wanted to fix things between us and now never can.”

_________________________________________

On Thursday night Esme realises the only pants I own are jeans, and despatches Carlisle and I to the mall to buy something “more suitable” for a funeral. Despite my reluctance, this apparently means a suit. Before I know it I find myself in the change rooms of a menswear store while the sales assistant tries to hunt up a jacket that’s going to fit me across the shoulders without swamping the rest of me.

“You’re filling out,” Carlisle says with a faint air of surprise.

“I get enough to eat these days,” I say lightly, eyeing myself critically in the mirror. I’m definitely more solid than I was when I first came to the Cullens’ house.

“You’re looking healthier overall; a good diet is key for growing kids,” Carlisle murmurs, stepping back as the salesman hands me another jacket. This one fits better, and Carlisle nods approvingly. “That’s fine.”

“We have a tailoring service for a personal fit,” the salesman tells us. “But this one fits pretty well and if you’re still growing rapidly then it’s probably better to leave a little room.”

“It’ll do,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and then stepping into the pants. I need a belt, but the length is good and I glance over at Carlisle. “Yeah?”

“We’ll take it. Put your other clothes on again and come and we’ll find a basic shirt and tie to go with it.”

I do what he says and then we’re done and I’m carrying the suit bag out to the car and feeling my old life drift one more step further away from me. I’ve never owned a suit before, and I look like a completely different person wearing one.

“I was speaking to the police today and they suggested that we get anything important out of your mom’s house as soon as possible,” Carlisle says to me on the drive home. “An empty house is always at risk of trespassers or vandals, and the people your mom was involved with makes that a little bit more likely. So you’ll have to think about what you want…”

“I don’t want anything,” I mutter.

“We probably need to take a look for any documents,” Carlisle says cautiously. “There might be photos or keepsakes from your childhood, or Alice’s, that can’t be replaced if we don’t find them now…we should probably at least see. And Esme said that there is some antique furniture that was probably your grandmother’s. I know you’re angry and hurting right now, but one day…”

“I don’t want anything,” I repeat flatly. “I don’t want to remember…let squatters come and take it, or let it burn to the ground…I don’t care.” And I turn my head to the window and stare out at the darkness, and don’t say anything else.

 


	42. The Funeral

The day of the funeral, Alice won’t leave my side. Carlisle and Esme leave to run errands and Edward heads off to school for the morning, although he’s planning on coming home later to join us, but Alice insists on sitting on my lap to eat her breakfast and then doesn’t even want to give me five minutes to shower. Instead we sit around in our pyjamas watching cartoons, with her grimy old bunny and Rainbow Smiley Star the unicorn clutched in Alice’s lap. Catkin joins us, and I stare blindly at the tv and listen to the little cat purr as I stroke her fur.

Carlisle and Esme come home with a late lunch of bread and deli meats, and we make sandwiches and I do my best to eat despite my lack of appetite. After we’ve eaten I help Alice shower and wash her hair and then Esme bribes her with fancy braids to let me shower on my own. I stand under the steaming stream of water for a long time, dreading the rest of the day.

I have to laugh a bit at Alice’s comically wide eyes when she sees me in the suit though.

“Wow,” she says admiringly. “You look like a real grown up! Like you work at the bank.”

I snort, tugging a little self-consciously at the jacket. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think you look very handsome,” Esme says. “Although where’s your tie?”

I pull it out of my pocket. “I don’t know how to do it up.”

Carlisle, who is already dressed in his suit with his tie knotted perfectly, comes over and takes it from me. “I’ll do it for you.”

It’s an oddly intimate act, having him stand so close as he threads the tie round my neck and does the knot, adjusting it until it sits properly. “I’ll teach you to do it yourself next time,” he says. “But for today…there you go.”

I nod, my throat suddenly too tight for words. I want to say thank you, but everything he’s done for me seems so big that I don’t know how to express that to him.

I think he knows though. Before he steps away from me he gives me a quick, hard hug and says quietly, “It’ll be okay Emmett. You’ll get through today…it won’t be easy, but it will be okay.”

Alice comes over and attaches herself to the side of the hug, and Carlisle drops one arm down to include her. “You too sweetheart…you’re going to be fine.”

I sit down in the living room to wait until it’s time to leave, and a moment later Alice comes and climbs onto my lap. “You really do look fancy,” she says, playing with the ends of my tie.

“Thanks. You look nice too.” She’s wearing her purple dress and some shiny shoes, and Esme has tied the fancy braids with sparkly bows. Somehow it makes her look older than normal, and I hug her a little bit tighter.

Alice clings more tightly, and asks quietly, “Is Mommy going to be all gross and scary? Will I have to see?”

“No.” I sit her back on my lap. An open casket had been the one thing I had had an opinion on, and that had been a flat out no. Momma’s lifeless face will be imprinted on my brain for the rest of my life after identifying her body, but Alice doesn’t need that. Her memories of Momma are probably shit anyway, but they don’t have to include her dead face. “She’ll be in a coffin with a closed lid, so you won’t see anything,” I say.

“How do you know it’s really her then? What if it’s someone else?” Alice is twisting my tie around her fingers. “What if…what if Mommy isn’t really dead?”

“Momma is really dead,” I tell her softly. “I saw her. This afternoon…it’s really going to be her. The funeral director does this all the time, and they won’t make a mistake.”

“Why did she die?”

“She took drugs that she shouldn’t have and then her heart couldn’t work properly anymore,” I say slowly, repeating the explanation I’ve heard Carlisle give to her.

“No, I know that part…but why did she take those drugs in the first place? Didn’t she know that this could happen?” Alice asks fretfully.

I half laugh. Isn’t that the million dollar question? Why do people start taking drugs and why do some of them get addicted? “Momma probably started taking drugs in the first place because they made her feel good. And she wanted to feel good in that way so much that she didn’t really think too hard about them being dangerous.”

“It didn’t seem like they made her feel that good,” Alice says. “Not when she was always being sick and screaming at me.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either,” I say with a sigh.

“Will other people come to the funeral? Like…Momma’s friends?”

Alice is tugging so hard on my tie that she’s ruining Carlisle’s nice knot and starting to strangle me. I unwrap it from around her fist and hold her hands. “No. We didn’t tell anyone, so they won’t even know it’s happening. It’s just going to be us.”

She looks relieved, and I don’t blame her. The funeral director had asked about putting notices in the newspaper, and Carlisle had asked me if I wanted to try and contact any of Momma’s friends and let them know what was happening, but I’d shaken my head to both ideas. Not that I really think Momma’s trash friends are the kind of people who read newspapers anyway, but the last thing I want is for this funeral to turn into a shitshow with assholes causing drama. Those people were the ones who introduced her to hard drugs and kept supplying her…I hate them for what they’ve done to my family, and I will never have that kind of thing near me again. It’s bleak that Momma’s life has ended with no one but Alice and I to mark the occasion, but that’s the reality.

When it comes though, there’s more than just Carlisle and Esme and Edward standing with Alice and I in the smallest chapel of the funeral home. Rosalie is there with Vera and Jim, and Bella and Ben and Angela from school are sitting in the row behind them. Alice’s teacher Miss Casper, and Miss Karen, the psychologist from her school, has come, and so has the principal of Camden, Ms Lane, and my art teacher Cal. Mara hurries in after us, looking flustered, and takes a seat on the end of a row. It still seems like a pitifully small gathering, but I’m touched beyond words that these people have all taken the time to come and be with us.

Momma’s casket is very plain, but the floral spray on the top of it is a crazy riot of colour. The funeral director had had a book of flower arrangements and I’d given Alice free rein over the choice so I’m not surprised it’s colourful, but I am a little taken aback at the size of it. There are other, smaller arrangements too and I can see handwritten cards tucked in amongst the flowers and figure they must be from guests.

There’s a framed picture of Momma on the casket too, and my throat feels like it’s constricting as I look at it. It’s just a snapshot, me and Alice and Momma at the county fair, but I’m holding a stuffed shark that I won on a pitching game and Alice is covered in smeared face paint and candy floss, and Momma is squeezing us both tight and we’re all smiling so hard my face hurts just looking at it.

_We were happy sometimes…so why did you throw it all away? Why didn’t you try harder to make it work?_

The service is short. There’s not a lot to say about Momma’s life, but Carlisle manages to cobble something together about her that isn’t outright lies and sounds okay. He reads a poem at the end of it. Edward plays the piano, a piece I don’t think I’ve heard before, and the melancholy sweetness of it washes over me and just for a little while it feels like I can breathe.

And then Alice talks.

We knew she wanted to, and there’s a step stool beside the lectern ready for her to use. But in the face of the audience she turns shy and begs me in whispers to do it with her, and despite my aversion to any personal participation in this beyond watching I give in and take her out front. I lift her into my arms and stand behind the microphone with her while she unfolds a piece of paper, creased and soft from being clutched in her hand, and starts reading. She reads fast and quietly, with her head turned away, so the microphone doesn’t pick up her voice and I don’t even know if anyone other than me hears her.

“My mom’s name was Maddie. She had black hair that she sometimes made pink or blue. She liked sparkly jewellery and she liked going out with her friends. One time she took me and Emmett to the beach and we went swimming and had ice cream and it was really fun. She gave me my bunny that’s my favourite toy. She was good at painting nails. Even though we didn’t live with her anymore and I didn’t want to go home I still really loved my mommy and it’s sad that she died.”

Tears spill down her cheeks and she drops her paper as she wraps her arms around my neck. I turn my back on the audience so no one will see my face as I hug her back, briefly squeezing so tightly I hear her squeak. Her little speech, obviously worked on so carefully, has broken through the layer of numbness keeping me steady and just about broken my heart. For a moment a wave of pure, unadulterated grief threatens to overwhelm me, and I take a deep breath and bite hard on my knuckles to force it back.

_You deserved so much better, Monkey. A trip to the beach, a stuffed bunny and memories of painting nails together…you should have so much more than that._

It wraps up pretty quickly after that. Edward plays some more music, and then everyone goes into a small reception room where there’s tea and coffee and a random assortment of sandwiches and cakes. This is the hardest part of the whole thing for me. Everyone wants to shake my hand or hug me and tell me how sorry they are, and I try and say thank you for coming and hope that they know how much I mean it, even if I sound like some emotionless robot.

Because the thing is, I can’t believe how many people are here. And all these people have come not because of any ties to Momma, but because they want to be here for Alice and me. When this all started, when Alice first got sick and I needed help…I didn’t have anyone. I called Esme in the end, but that was a gamble that a not-quite-stranger was going to do the unexpected and help me when there wasn’t anyone else. I got lucky and she did help, and even more than that her help has led to all these other people becoming part of my world too. If something were to go wrong tomorrow, I could call any of the people that are here in this room and they’d do their best to help me. And despite everything else…that feels good.

Afternoon tea doesn’t last too long, at least. There’s a little bit of chat as people have something to eat and drink, and then they give condolences and hugs again and leave. Alice shares cake with her teacher and psychologist, and it’s good to see her smiling and laughing with them as she says goodbye.

“I’m going to go now.” Edward appears at my elbow, Bella behind him. “I just wanted to say again that I’m sorry.”

“Thanks for the music,” I mumble. “It was really good…I appreciate it a lot.”

Bella hugs me too, and then the two of them leave, the last ones besides Rosalie. She’s sitting on the sofa with Alice, and I head over there to see what they’re doing.

“I bought you a new charm for your bracelet,” Rosalie is saying, pulling a little box out of her purse and handing it to Alice. “I had a bracelet like that and my dad used to buy me charms for special things, so I thought you might like that too. If you don’t like it though that’s okay, we can take it back to the shop and swap it over for something you want.”

Alice opens the box and reveals a stylised silver heart. “Oh, I DO like it! It’s so pretty!”

Rosalie smiles. “I got you the heart to remind you that even though you’ve lost your mother now, there are so many other people who love you.” She glances up at me and I see the flash of vulnerability on her face. “The family you were born with aren’t the only people who can be important to you.”

I reach out and touch her face, running my hand over the curve of her cheek, smiling at her to let her know without words how much she means to me. _I love you._

I crouch down in front of Alice, trying to smile at her. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good.” She shows me the charm. “Look, Rosalie gave me a love heart for my bracelet. And Miss Casper and Miss Karen came from school just for me…it was a good funeral, right? And I picked good flowers and did my speech good, didn’t I?”

My heart twists again at her anxious desire to please. “You did a real good job,” I say reassuringly. “Listen, I was thinking about going to Rosalie’s house for a little while, but I won’t if you want me to come home with you instead. So what do you think? Will you be okay with Esme and Carlisle for a while? Or should I come home with you?”

“I’ll be okay,” Alice tells me after a moment’s hesitation.

“Are you sure? Because I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s okay. Esme bought a _101 Dalmations_ dvd and she said I can watch that this afternoon...unless you want to see it too?” Alice looks at me.

I laugh. “Nah, you watch it without me.”

“Are you ready to go?” Carlisle comes over and smiles down at us. “I’ve put the flowers and the cards in the car.”

“I thought I might go to Rosalie’s for a while,” I say. “Alice doesn’t mind.”

Carlisle nods. “I think that’s probably a good idea.” He holds out a hand and pulls me to my feet, examining my face with concern faintly shadowing his eyes. “It’s been a tough day, and a bit of a break will do you good.”

Alice holds out her arms to him and without hesitating Carlisle scoops her up. “We’ll take you home sweetheart. I think you need a rest.” He kisses her forehead and she leans her head onto his shoulder.

It’s a quiet drive to Rosalie’s house. I am so tired. I’m relieved that the funeral is over, but my stomach is still sick with tension. The sense of unreality, that feeling of being behind glass and watching the world from a distance, is fading fast and I can feel that storm of emotion that’s been building inside me pushing forward.

I’m not ready to deal with it.

I don’t want to deal with it.

So when we get to Rosalie’s house, I do something really stupid and I drink. A couple of beers while we play pool, and when that takes the edge off I down a few more while we watch tv. When the show finishes and Rosalie goes to the bathroom I make my way unsteadily to the liquor and throw back a couple of shots of tequila.

“Emmett,” Rosalie says quietly, her face troubled as she approaches me. “Don’t do this.”

I choke back another few mouthfuls and shake my head. “I know, but…”

Rosalie takes the bottle and screws the cap back on, pushing it firmly to the back of the shelf. “It’s not going to help.”

“It helps a bit,” I mutter, stumbling backwards and falling onto the sofa. I close my eyes. I know that it’s not going to help in any real way, in fact it’s probably going to make things worse…but for the moment I feel completely, blissfully numb and after days of feeling emotion like knives I’ll take it.

“I’m sorry.” Rosalie’s arms come round me and she presses her cheek against mine. “I wish there was something I could do…I’m sorry.”

I draw her down onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her warmth and breathing in the scent of her hair. At least for now…this is enough.


	43. Breaking the Cycle

I’m already pretty drunk, and when the tequila hits it tips me over the edge into being absolutely shitfaced. I slide down until I’m horizontal on the sofa, still holding Rosalie who squirms until she’s comfortable beside me.

“Careful of my arm,” she says. “It’s bruised.”

“What did you do?”

“Remember I said I was going to the gynaecologist yesterday? I got one of those implant things for birth control,” Rosalie says a little shyly. She reaches around the back and unzips the top of her dress so that she can pull it down over arm. There’s a bandaid on her bicep and a splotched purple-pink bruise. “See? You can feel it if you want…carefully!”

I stroke her arm. “That’s freaky.” It feels like a matchstick under her skin.

“I know. But it will keep me baby-free for three years, and since it’s embedded in my body I can’t forget to take it.” Rosalie kisses me. “We’ll still use condoms, but having the implant will make sure. I want to have a baby one day, but there are other things I want to do first.”

With her dress pulled down like that I can see the top of her bra. “So, you want…” I nuzzle into her neck.

Rosalie laughs gently. “Emmett, you are so drunk you probably couldn’t even if you tried.”

Considering how much trouble I’m having keeping my eyes focused on her while she’s lying right next to me, she’s probably correct about that.

“You’re so beautiful.” I lay a trail of kisses across her neck. “I love you.”

The world feels like it’s spinning, and when she kisses back it’s like I lose my sense of gravity. Everything in me is focussed purely on her, the way she feels and the way she makes me feel as I kiss and touch her. Her hands in my hair, her dress sliding down off her shoulder so that I can see her breasts in her semi-sheer bra, her lips and tongue on mine, her leg hooked over my hip as I grind against her…it’s all so good, so overwhelming that there’s no room for anything else but comfort, and excitement, and an aching desire for more.

Until the alcohol catches up with me. The somersaulting sensation of pleasure in my stomach lurches unpleasantly into nausea, and the churning that follows can’t be ignored. With an almost incoherent apology to Rosalie I stagger off the sofa and bolt to the bathroom.

“Well, that’s one way to make a girl feel good,” Rosalie says as she gingerly pushes the bathroom door open fifteen minutes later and shoves a bottle of water at me. “Kissing her and then running off to puke. Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better…” Another wave of nausea hits and I turn back to the toilet. Surely there can’t be anything _left_? But apparently there is, and I hear Rosalie retreat.

 _So much for numbness,_ I think as my stomach convulses again. I gag and heave again, eventually sliding down onto the cool tile floor when the retching subsides.

I don’t know if I fall asleep or pass out, but the next thing I know I hear Carlisle’s low voice. “Okay Emmett, time to get up.”

I crack an eyelid and see him kneeling on the floor beside me. “Really?” I say to Rosalie, hovering in the doorway. “You called Carlisle?”

She shrugs, and I feel a stab of guilt when I see that she’s been crying.

“I’m sorry.” I try and get up, nearly falling over Carlisle as the world reels around me, and ending up sitting back on my butt. “I didn’t mean…oh fuck.”

Carlisle steadies me. “I called to see if you’d be home for dinner. At that point you were unresponsive, and Rosalie was concerned. Rightly so, going by what you’ve apparently drunk...alcohol poisoning isn’t a joke. Have you finished vomiting?”

“Yes.” I’m so ashamed of myself I can’t even look at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get out of the bathroom,” Carlisle says.

I walk unsteadily back to the rec room and sink into the sofa, burying my face in my hands. “I’m sorry…I’m such a fuck up.” It’s not the alcohol making me feel sick now, but my own sense of self-loathing and the knowledge that Carlisle must find me contemptible.

“It’s okay Emmett,” Carlisle says gently. “But you know that this isn’t the right way to handle things.”

“I didn’t want to think about it anymore,” I mumble. “The funeral was over and I was so glad…I didn’t want to think about _anything_.”

Carlisle sits beside me on the sofa and touches my shoulder. “I understand that. But Emmett…you have to let yourself grieve. I know that you’re angry, and it’s probably easier for you to be angry at Maddie right now than let yourself feel that pain. But I also know how much your loved your mom…it’s okay to be hurt by this.”

Her words cut through the booze, cut through the anger, cut through all the hurt, and for a moment my heart is raw.

“She left me. She didn’t love me…not really. Not _enough_.” My voice cracks. “She left me.”

“Do you think she did it on purpose?” Carlisle asks.

“I don’t know…maybe she did! I keep thinking that she died on Alice’s birthday and that seems like too much of a coincidence. Maybe it wasn’t an accidental overdose at all,” I say wretchedly. “I mean, she did a lot of drugs for a long time and managed to keep it more or less together – why did she mess it up then, on _that_ day?”

“Is that why you’re so angry? Because you feel like she did it deliberately?” Carlisle asks softly.

“It feels like she gave up on me,” I say hollowly. “She had options for rehab, Mara was helping her…but she chose not to. She gave up on us, and then she gave up on herself. And that makes me hate her.”

“I don’t know if Maddie’s overdose was deliberate, or deliberately reckless, or completely accidental. Significant dates like birthdays and anniversaries or Christmas can trigger some people to act, but in this case we really don’t know because there wasn’t any indication either way. I’m sorry Emmett, but there aren’t any answers here.” Carlisle takes a deep breath. “Whether it was a deliberate act or not though…you have to understand that Maddie was an addict, and her ability to make good choices was deeply flawed. I’m not saying you can’t be angry and you can’t be hurt, because whatever the reasons it doesn’t change the fact that you had an abusive childhood and now you don’t have your mother. But your mom had an illness and her ability to do the right thing was compromised. I don’t know what went into making your mother act the way she did, but there were probably reasons. Not excuses – nothing excuses what she did to you and Alice – but there might be some explanation as to what took her down that road.”

My teeth are biting down hard on my abused knuckles, but for once even that pain doesn’t come close to touching the hurt that’s inside. “Her life wasn’t easy. They didn’t really talk about it, but I know that my grandfather wasn’t good to her and my Grandma. He was abusive too, and she grew up with that and then Christian…I mean, what he did to me he did to her too, sometimes…Momma lived what she saw. I understand that, but sometimes that’s…I don’t want to accept it because…because what does that mean for me? I don’t want to be like her, and I know that I _am_ …I’m here getting shitfaced because things got hard, just like she used to do! I’m screwing up everything in my life and hurting all the people I care about and…I don’t want to be like her! But I’m living what I saw, just like she did, and she couldn’t get away from it and I’m so scared that I never will either…”

And I’m crying, feeling like I’m turning inside out with pain and misery and grief, because I loved my momma and she messed me up and that can never be changed. I’m crying about what’s already been and what can never be, about everything I’ve lost and everything I never had. It’s harsh, ugly sobbing growing out of a pain so deep and terrifying I don’t think there will ever be an end to it, but Carlisle wraps his arms around me and Rosalie hugs me from the other side and the strength the two of them give me is like a lifeline in the dark.

“You do not have to be like her,” Carlisle says, hoarse with emotion. “You’re _not_ like her…you haven’t hurt anyone. Look at what you’ve done for Alice – the love and care you’ve given her is absolutely extraordinary, especially given the circumstances. That little girl’s resilience and spirit is all down to _you,_ and she is beautiful. And you…your kindness and strength, your willingness to learn and grow and change…you can become anything you want to be, Emmett.” Carlisle ducks his head and makes me look at him. “Abuse…and addiction…it’s a cycle. But it can be broken, and you’re doing that. It’s hard, and you’re going to make mistakes, but I have absolute faith in you. We’ll probably never really know what demons your mom faced in her own mind, but they don’t have to become yours.”

“I don’t want to be so angry with her,” I breathe. “But it’s so hard…how do you hate someone and love them at the same time? How does it make sense to be ripped apart by grief that she’s gone and yet also be so fucking relieved that it’s over and she’s not going to hurt us anymore?”

“You have to accept both things. Feel both things...because they both matter. You can hate what she did and still love her just because she was your mom. You can be angry with her, and you can miss her, and you can be sad, all at the same time.” Carlisle hugs me again, and kisses my forehead and I think it’s the first time in my whole life I’ve ever had a man show me that much physical affection. “It’s hard, and you’re going to hurt, but eventually it will get easier. And we’ll always be here for you.”

“Yeah,” I say tiredly, “It does hurt.” And I cry again, my tears soaking into his perfect linen shirt as he holds me tight, giving me all the time that I need.

“There’s no quick fix or easy answer to any of this,” Carlisle says when my crying eventually stops and I sit back, self-consciously wiping my face on my shirtsleeves. “Grief is a process, and you’ll be living with this for the rest of your life. But you’re stronger than you think, and you’ll be okay.”

I nod, and flick a quick, shame-faced glance towards Rosalie who is sitting beside me. My heart twists when I see that she’s been crying too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done all this.”

“That’s okay.” She hands me a bottle of water and, mindful of the ongoing queasiness in my stomach, I take it and sip it.

“We should get home. Esme will be wondering what’s happened to us,” Carlisle says, rising to his feet. “Do you need the bathroom again before we leave?”

I shake my head and haul myself upright. I feel shaky and exhausted, still weirdly drunk and mildly nauseous, but I don’t think I’m going to be sick again.

“Rosalie, are you okay?” Carlisle asks. “You did the right thing in telling me what was going on; I think Emmett’s going to be fine, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry. So thank you.”

Rosalie nods quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop him…”

“It’s not your fault,” I cut her off. “Seriously- this fuck up is all on me.” I look at Carlisle. “Can you give us a second? I’ll meet you in the car?”

He leaves, and I go down on my knees in front of Rosalie on the sofa. “Please Rosalie…I am so, SO sorry about this. Don’t even for one second blame yourself.”

She leans forward, pressing her forehead against mine. “I love you,” she breathes. “I hate seeing how much this hurts you, and I’m so sorry I can’t do anything to make it better.”

“You do make it better,” I say fervently. “I love you so much, and just being with you makes me feel like I have the whole world right here in my hands. But I’m a big stupid idiot who doesn’t know enough to stick with what’s good for him, and I messed up badly today. I am so sorry I can’t even tell you…forgive me?”

Rosalie hugs me. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

I hug her back, holding her close and thanking God or the universe or fate or whoever arranges such things that I was lucky enough to find her.

“Let me know if you need me to stop,” Carlisle says as I get into the car and we pull away from the kerb. “You still don’t look that good.”

I don’t make him stop, but it’s a close run thing. The minute we’re parked in the garage I’m out of the car and dashing to the bathroom.

_Goddamn tequila…never, EVER again!_

“Are you sick?” I didn’t even have time to lock the door, and Alice comes in behind me. “That’s gross.”

“Well you didn’t have to come in and watch!” I exclaim, flushing the toilet and rinsing my mouth out before I turn to look at her.

Alice’s face has always been a clear window to her emotions, and I see it then. The involuntarily spasm of revulsion, the brief flash of terror… “You smell like Mark,” she says flatly, and it’s like she’s punched me in the gut.

“Monkey…”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

She turns and runs, and I take two steps after her and stop. Because she’s right. What I’ve done this afternoon is more than just stupid – it’s detestable, and shameful, and it makes me just like everyone else who has ever let her down.

But I don’t want to be like that.

I strip off and get into the shower, scrubbing myself all over and then grabbing my toothbrush and brushing my teeth until my gums bleed _. I won’t be like them._ Alice deserves better. I will do the right thing by her, and I will do the right thing for myself too. I trust Carlisle and he believes that it’s possible to change this cycle…I can do this.

Once I’m done I go into the kitchen and find Alice sitting at the table with paper and markers, drawing what I think are meant to be dalmatians. Pouring myself a glass of juice, I sit down beside her.

“Hey Monkey.”

She doesn’t answer.

I swallow down some juice and pick up a marker and a spare sheet of paper. “Please don’t be mad at me.” I draw a dog too, hiding under a blanket and looking mournful.

Alice stabs at her paper hard enough that the marker tip disappears. “If you start drinking and then doing drugs like Momma and Mark you’ll die too and then I’ll have no one.”

“I’m not going to do that,” I say steadily. “I _did_ drink this afternoon, but that was stupid and idiotic and I’m not going to do it again.”

“Why did you do that?” she demands.

“I thought it might make me feel better,” I answer honestly.

“Did it?”

I laugh. “No. Not at all…you saw that it made me sick.” My smile drops and I go on quietly, “But I was feeling really bad about Momma, and sometimes when you feel so bad, and so mixed up about everything, you do something dumb.”

“That’s stupid… _I_ don’t do anything dumb,” Alice mutters.

“I’m not as smart as you.” I push my drawing across to her. “See this dog is me, all sad because he’s an idiot.”

Alice giggles, and my heart lightens a little. “Are you just really sad?” she asks.

“Part of it is because I’m sad. But…Momma wasn’t a very good mom,” I say slowly. “I mean, she did some really horrible things to us, or let other people do horrible things to us which is just as bad, and I’m really angry at her for that. But I loved her too, and I’m really sad that she’s dead, and it’s hard to feel everything. Does that make sense to you?”

Alice nods. “I don’t like thinking about when we lived in our old house. It makes me feel bad when I remember how mean that mom was to me. It was scary.”

“Yeah. It makes me feel bad too.”

“But it makes me really happy that now we get to live here now,” Alice says. “I love having Esme be my mom and Carlisle be my dad and Edward be my other brother. I think it’s sad and not fair that we had a bad mom and no dad, but I think it’s really lucky that we got a new family, even if the reasons are sad. I can just think about the good parts.”

It’s a simplistic answer to an impossible question, but it’s a step on the road to healing and for the time being I’ll take it.


	44. Options

“Emmett look, it’s me when I was a baby! And you’re such a liar, because I don’t look a monkey at all!”

I sleep late on Saturday morning, and when I finally get up and wander out to the kitchen I find Alice sitting at the table with Esme and Carlisle, looking at a photo album. There’s a big cardboard box on the table with more albums in it, and a larger box on the floor with framed pictures sticking out the top.

Alice pushes the album towards me. “See?”

“Yeah…where did all this come from?”

Esme is looking at me with concern. “I know you weren’t really ready to think about keepsakes, but Carlisle and I were worried about what might happen to things left in the empty house. We spent a couple of hours there yesterday morning doing a quick search through for anything that might be important, and we went back this morning and finished up. We’ll still have to sort out all the furniture and other things, but we wanted to make sure we got the personal things.”

“I wondered who brought the picture of Momma and us to the funeral,” I say, looking down at the album that Alice has open in front of her. “I knew it was the one from the living room at home.”

“You don’t have to do anything with all this right now if you don’t want to,” Carlisle says, indicating the boxes. “We’re happy to just box it up and store it away until you’re ready. Alice wanted to look at them now though.”

I shrug. “It’s okay.”

“We collected the photo albums we found and the framed pictures from the walls. We also found your birth certificates and your mom’s marriage and divorce paperwork, and there was a box under your mom’s bed with school report cards and some cards and artwork,” Esme says.

I pick up a report card. “Emmett is an imaginative and enthusiastic member of our class. Emmett is having trouble mastering basic concepts and would benefit from consistent practise of skills at home. Emmett also needs to work on sitting still and listening, and talking less during class time,” I read aloud. “There you go Monkey, I was a chatterbox in first grade just like you.” I can’t help laughing a little.

Alice giggles.

“I didn’t know Momma kept this stuff.” I slowly take a seat and pick up a handmade card that says _hapy mohters day love ememett_ on it, alongside a picture of what I suppose is meant to be Momma and me. “Geez, I even spelled my own name wrong…and it still took until I was sixteen before someone figured out it was there might be something actually wrong with me?”

“There was this too,” Alice says. “Esme says it’s the bracelet they put on me at the hospital when I was a baby.” She holds up a hospital band, so tiny that it barely fits on my thumb.

“There are baby photos of you too,” Esme tells me with a slightly hesitant smile, nudging a gold album towards me. “You were a darling chubby little thing!”

I hesitate for a moment before I pull the album close enough for me to open. My stomach is tight. I don’t know if I want to look at photos of Momma, but once they’re in front of me it’s not as hard as I thought. This isn’t Momma’s white, lifeless face from the photographs as I saw at the medical examiner’s office. This is Momma, closer to the way I remember her when it was good, with the scattering of freckles across her nose and her blue eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled. My breathing comes more easily.

“She looks so young,” Esme comments. “I knew she was, but the pictures with you really drive it home. It must have been so difficult for her with a baby at that age.”

“Yeah.” I turn a couple of pages, looking at pictures of Momma and me as a baby. “She’d just turned seventeen when she had me; our birthdays are eight days apart. She was small though…kind of like you, Monkey…and she looks younger.”

“What about your father?” Carlisle asks. “I know you said he was never involved, but his name is on your birth certificate. Do you know anything else about him?”

“Not a lot. He was at school with Momma, but they weren’t really together or anything and he bailed before I was born. Momma didn’t know what happened to him after that. There’s a picture somewhere…” I flip back through the album and find it. “That’s him. His name was Luke.”

I know the photograph off by heart. It’s a group shot of Momma and a bunch of her friends sitting in the bleachers after a baseball game, with my dad on the end of the row. It’s the only picture I have of him and even though it’s not a very good one I know every detail. He’s wearing a baseball uniform and holds a glove, and even sitting down you can tell he towers over Momma. He’s wearing a baseball cap that covers his hair and shades the upper half of his face, but it doesn’t hide the grin and the dimples.

“I see where your dimples came from!” Esme says.

“Maddie didn’t know anything about where he went? She never tried to follow him up for child support?” Carlisle asks.

I shake my head. “Not that I know of. Why?”

Carlisle and Esme glance at each other and then Carlisle says, “Alice, do you want to go and see what Edward’s doing? You could ask him what he wants for lunch today.”

“Okay.”

Alice slips away from the table and I look at Carlisle and Esme apprehensively. “What?”

“It’s nothing bad,” Esme says hastily. “Really! But we didn’t want to talk in front of Alice quite yet.”

“Mara and Esme and I have been talking about the possibility of adoption,” Carlisle says directly. “You and Alice can stay here as permanent foster placements of course, but with your mother gone adoption has become an option open to us.”

I gape at them. “You want…to adopt us? Seriously?”

“Yes!” Esme says emphatically, but Carlisle rests a slightly restraining hand on her arm.

“We want to look at it. We love having you here and really feel like you and Alice are just part of the family…but we don’t want to push you into anything, especially so soon after you lost your mom.” he says. “Adoption would make us a family officially and give you some legal protections as our child that foster placement doesn’t, but it’s not necessary if you don’t want to go down that route. We’ll understand if you’re not interested, or not ready, and you’ll always have a home with us, regardless.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I bite my knuckles.

“You don’t have to say anything now. Take all the time you need to think it over; there’s no rush to decide anything,” Carlisle says reassuringly. “We _really_ don’t want you to feel pressured here. That’s why we’re not saying anything to Alice yet – that gives you time to decide what you want to do for yourself. We know what she will want.”

“What do you have to do?” I ask. “Is it difficult?”

Carlisle shakes his head. “It’s not overly difficult, it just takes a bit of time and paperwork. That was why I was interested in whether your mother had had any contact with your dad. After abandoning you for sixteen years it’s unlikely he could stop an adoption going ahead, but it would simplify things if we found him and he signed away his rights. Christian Brandon made it pretty clear when Alice came into care that he didn’t want a thing to do with her, so I don’t anticipate he’ll cause any hold up on Alice’s end.”

“And you really want that?” I ask uncertainly. “You want...want us?”

Carlisle smiles at me. “Very much.”

Before I can say anything else in response, Alice comes bumbling back into the kitchen and climbs back up to the table. “Edward says we should have hotdogs,” she reports.

“Oh yeah? Or do _you_ say we should have hotdogs?” I ask her teasingly, knowing full well who the real hotdog fan in the house is.

Alice smiles guiltily. “I just _suggested_ …but Edward says yes.”

“I’ll have a look in the freezer and see if we have any,” Esme says, getting up from the table. As she passes me, she stops briefly and hugs me tight. “I love you.”

And my heart feels tight because I believe that she does.

________________________________________________

Esme and Carlisle have invited Rosalie and Jack, her dad, over for dinner. When they arrive Jack takes flowers and wine into the kitchen, and I pull Rosalie aside into the study.

“Now that I’m all sobered up and you know I’m one hundred percent serious, I need to say sorry about yesterday,” I say. “Getting wasted like that was stupid, and not fair to you, and I am really, really sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Rosalie says. “You’d just been to your mother’s funeral…it was a bad time.”

“I do need to apologise though. I know that I upset you. It was a shitty and dangerous thing to do and it put you in a bad position as well – I want you to know that I realise that, and I’m not going to do it again. I owe you better than that.”

“You’re not upset that I told Carlisle what was going on?” Rosalie asks.

“Not at all.” I wrap her in my arms and hold her close. “Considering how out of it I was, I didn’t really leave you any choice…Carlisle had a point that alcohol poisoning is a thing.”

“I was scared when you weren’t responding,” Rosalie admits. “The vomiting was gross and I would have just left you to it, but when you couldn’t even answer me I didn’t know what I should do. When Carlisle called I just grabbed the phone and blabbed.”

“I would have done the same thing,” I tell her. “And Carlisle was really good about it…he’s good about everything, really.”

“He cares about you a lot, he and Esme both. I don’t know that ‘lucky’ is the right word, given the rest of the circumstances, but you’re so fortunate to have them,” Rosalie says.

“Honestly, we’ve been so lucky to end up with the Cullens. I don’t even like thinking about what might have happened to us if I hadn’t called Esme and if she hadn’t come to the rescue,” I smile crookedly. “You know, this morning they asked if I wanted them to adopt us? They want to do that.”

A smile breaks across Rosalie’s face. “That would be amazing! Carlisle and Esme would be the best parents…okay, it would mean you’d be related to Edward, but I suppose nothing’s perfect.”

I laugh and drop a kiss on her forehead. “Hey, that’s my almost-brother you’re talking about!”

Rosalie giggles and digs her fingers into my ribs and tickles me. I yelp and grab her hands, and the two of us end of falling backwards onto the sofa and then down onto the floor, laughing as we wrestle. She’s surprisingly good, strong and opportunistic, but I’ve got the height and weight advantage and soon have her pinned underneath me. I hold for a second, but I see in her eyes that we’re walking the line between play and something less fun, and I roll off her and squeeze her hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Rosalie runs her hand over my chest and rests her head against my shoulder. “Do you like the adoption idea?”

“I’m thinking about it. I _do_ like it; I mean, there wouldn’t be anything better for Alice, and with Carlisle and Esme and Edward…we’d be a real family. I’d be an idiot to turn that down. But the same time…I don’t know that I’m really ready to just say goodbye to my momma, you know? I don’t know that it’s possible for me to just let it all go and start again.”

______________________________________________

“Emmett, how are you doing?” Cal, the art teacher, appears at the side of my table.

“I don’t think I’m going to be a water colourist,” I grumble, tearing off another failed attempt and mopping up a mess of spilled water. “I keep trying to draw with the brush like it’s a pencil.”

“You just need to develop your technique,” Cal says. “Your eye is good and I can see what you’re aiming for, so take your time and think about what you’re doing.” He sits on the empty stool beside me and borrows my brush, a tree appearing on the paper like magic under his quick, efficient strokes. “Loosen up a little.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying…” I shake my hands out and make another effort to copy his brushstrokes. “Okay, that’s a bit better but my tree still looks like it’s got some kind of disease.”

Cal laughs. “It’s good. You just have to accept that it’s less precise than drawing, and see how you can use that to the best effect.” He rinses the brush. “Seriously though, are you doing okay now? You seem a little bit brighter than last week.”

I add some extra leaves to the edges of my tree. “Yeah, I’m doing a bit better. It’s still hard I’m okay. And I wanted to say…I really appreciated that you came to her funeral.” My face burns but I still want to say it.

“My ma died when I was forty and it still gutted me,” Cal says. “I don’t even want to think about it at sixteen. But you’ve got people behind you Emmett, and you’ll get through it.”

“Thanks.” My paper is getting soggy with the water I’m mindlessly slapping on it. I appreciate this so much, but that doesn’t mean it’s not embarrassing and I’m relieved when Cal changes the subject, I don’t know that I like the new one that much better.

“Have you thought about what you want to do when you’ve finished with school?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Are you interested in college or art school? You know I think you’re talented and I can give you some ideas and write you a recommendation,” he says.

I swirl my brush in the water, watching the colour deepen. “I don’t think college is really for me,” I say a little glumly. “It’s not that I’m scared of hard work – I’m working my ass off now that I’m here at Camden – but I’m so far behind. I don’t know think I’d ever get through any admissions process, and it’s not like there’s special ed at college.”

“I wouldn’t write college off completely. There would be art programs that will work around your learning difficulties and we could look at them. But I had another idea for you…wait here.” Cal gets up and heads off to his office, stopping briefly by a couple of other students on the way, and returns a few moments later carrying a magazine that he lays on the bench in front of me.

“Tattooing?” I say sceptically.

Cal nods seriously. “Yeah. I have a buddy who does it, and he’s probably the most talented guy I know. He has a spread in here.” He flips through the magazine until he finds the article he was looking for, and points at the accompanying photos. “That’s his work. I saw him this weekend and we were talking about his apprentice and I couldn’t help but think of you. Your talent is raw, but you’re an exceptional artist for your age and I think your drawing and lettering skills would translate really well to this kind of work. You’ve already got a strong style of your own, but you can turn your hand to most things and you’ve got the kind of eye for colour and composition that’s almost impossible to teach. Tattooing is something that might really suit you.”

My face is burning with embarrassment. I know I can draw okay, but I’ve never had a teacher praise me like this and I don’t know how to react, so I just stare down at the magazine and take in his friend’s art. And it _is_ art. I’ve seen my fair share of junk tattoos, since Momma and half of her friends were covered in them, but the ink photographed for this magazine is a whole different world.

“You really think I could do this?” Leafing through the pages, I’m too intrigued to be embarrassed now.

Cal grins. “I think you’d be damn good at it. Actually, I told my buddy about you and showed him what I had of your stuff and he agrees with me that you’ve got potential. He said he’d be interested to see a portfolio from you when you’ve finished school, and he’s the real deal and wouldn’t say it if he wasn’t serious.”

“It’s amazing,” I say. “The colours, and the line work…I haven’t ever seen tattoos like this.”

“It’s a largely unregulated industry and there’s a lot of shoddy work around, but done right it’s an art form,” Cal says.

“Yeah, there was once some guy doing tattoos in my kitchen with whisky shots on the side,” I murmur. “Not exactly art. So that’s kind of where my mind goes when you suggest tattooist as a career path.”

Cal winces. “Yeah, that’s…bad. People like that give the whole industry a bad reputation. But my buddy’s been doing it for thirty years and has won awards and is really well regarded in the field. He loves what he does - he gets to spend his days making art, and to be honest he makes bank…a lot more than I make as a teacher, let me tell you that!” Cal laughs and gets up as someone on the other side of the room raises their hand. “It’s something for you to think about anyway. I know things haven’t been easy for you, but you’ve got a lot of potential Emmett. I’m looking forward to seeing you succeed.”


	45. Right There in Front of Me

That afternoon I catch Edward at his locker after the final bell. “Hey, are you heading home now? Will you give me a ride to Rosalie’s place on the way?”

He slides his laptop bag into his backpack and zips it shut. “Sure. What’s she doing?”

“She was home sick today,” I say, following him out to the parking lot. “Stomachache or something. I thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

“Well, I hope it’s not contagious,” Edward says. He joins the line of cars waiting to exit. “When do you think you’re going to get your permit?”

“Carlisle was talking about booking the test before…before my mom died. I should get back on that, you’re probably sick of having to drive me around everywhere,” I say.

“I don’t mind. And I can guarantee that even when you have your permit Rosalie is never going to voluntarily drive around in this Volvo instead of her BMW,” Edward grins and I laugh, because he’s probably right about that.

He drops me off at the Hale’s house and I ring the bell. When no one answers I text Rosalie to say I’m there, and several minutes after that I hear her working the locks and the door swings open. Rosalie, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, appears and smiles wearily.

“Hey you,” I say.

“Sorry I took so long to get the door,” Rosalie mutters. “I feel like shit.” She shuffles backwards and sits down on the bottom step, her arms wrapped around herself.

“You don’t look that great,” I say uncertainly. She’s pale, and her face looks pinched and tight. “It’s your stomach? How long has this been going on?”

“It started hurting after the game on Saturday, but I thought I just pulled a muscle or something. It’s got worse and worse though…it really hurts. I called the doctor but I couldn’t get an appointment until tomorrow afternoon.”

She rests her head on her knees, and I’m shocked to see her lip quiver. Rosalie’s tough- I’ve seen her miss her cheerleading tricks and crash out with nothing more than a grimace, but right now she looks abjectly miserable.

“Do you think waiting until tomorrow is a good idea?” I ask. “Is Bridget around? She could drive you to Urgent Care. Or when will your dad be home?”

“She’s at class. And Dad left for Sydney this morning and won’t be back until the weekend.” Rosalie closes her eyes and curls a little more tightly into herself, and it’s clear that there’s something really wrong.

“I’ll call Esme,” I say, laying an arm across Rosalie’s shoulder and kissing the side of her head, feeling the heat of her skin against my lips.

Ten minutes later Esme is at the door, and I let her in the door with a grateful smile. She goes and crouches beside Rosalie, who is still huddled on the bottom step. “Emmett said you’re not feeling well? Run upstairs and grab your shoes and I’ll take you to the doctor.”

Rosalie can barely get to her feet, and when she looks up at the stairs she just shakes her head exhaustedly. “I can’t.”

Esme’s frown deepens and she lays a hand against Rosalie’s forehead. “You know what? I think we should skip Urgent Care and take you straight to the ER. Emmett, can you get some shoes and a sweater for Rosalie? You come out to the car with me, sweetheart.”

By the time we get to the hospital Rosalie can barely stand upright, and my own stomach is so tight with anxiety I practically need medical attention myself. Triage is quick and we’re told to wait in a small, curtained off cubicle where Rosalie curls into the foetal position on the bed and I sit beside her holding her hand and wishing there was more something I could do.

The curtain swishes back and Carlisle comes in, carrying a chart and wearing the tortured cat scrubs and a smile. “Good afternoon everyone. Rosalie, I’m the paediatrician on duty today, but if you’re not comfortable with me being your treating doctor I can find someone else to take care of you.”

“It’s fine,” Rosalie says. “Just please…please do something.” She’s fighting back tears.

“Let’s take a look.” Carlisle smiles at her sympathetically. “Would you like Emmett and Esme to wait outside?”

Rosalie doesn’t let go of my hand. “No.”

“Okay. Forty-eight hours of lower abdominal pain?” Carlisle looks at the chart. “It says here that you’ve vomited and have a slightly elevated temperature too. There are a couple of possibilities…are you pregnant? Even a tiny chance?”

“Not unless God has decided the world needs another virgin birth,” Rosalie mutters.

Carlisle asks a couple of other questions and then puts down the chart. “Can you show me where it hurts?”

Biting her lip, Rosalie rolls onto her back and gingerly pulls up her t-shirt to expose her belly. “Here.” The guttural snarl she makes when Carlisle’s hands lightly press against her makes my skin crawl.

“I think we’re looking at appendicitis,” Carlisle tells her gently. “I want to get a scan done to make sure and rule out any ovarian issues, but we need to get moving on prepping you for surgery. Your appendix is going to have to come out, and looking at you I’d say it needs to happen pretty quickly. I’ll go and give surgery and radiology a call, and I’ll get a nurse to come in and do some bloods and get an iv started. Once we’ve got that in we’ll be able to do something about your pain, okay?”

Rosalie nods, and Carlisle pats her hand.

“Don’t panic; it might sound scary but you’re going to be fine. The anaesthetist and the surgeon will talk to you in a bit more detail, but I can tell you that they’ll do a laparoscopy under general anaesthetic, so it will be a couple of small incisions and using cameras to guide what they’re doing internally. Assuming we get there before it ruptures, it’s a fairly simple surgery and you’ll be able to go home in a day or two and be back to normal in a few weeks. But we do need to move on it now. Any questions?”

“No.” Rosalie grits her teeth.

“We’ll do something about that in a moment. Now, what about your dad? Can Esme give him a call and see about getting him down here?” Carlisle asks.

“He left for Sydney this morning,” Rosalie says, her voice trembling. “It’s basically a twenty four hour flight time, so he won’t even get there until tomorrow. Even if turns around and gets on an immediate flight back he’s two days away. And Mom’s in Bali, so she’s pretty much just as far away.”

Esme bends forward and brushes the hair away from her face. “Don’t worry about it sweetie. I’ll give them both a call, and we’ll be here for you in the meantime.” She glances across at Carlisle. “You have an emergency medical power of attorney for her anyway, don’t you?”

“Yes, Jack set it up when Lily started travelling more. Okay Rosalie, I’m going to send in a nurse to get you set up while I go and see about putting you on the surgery list. We want to get you feeling better as soon as possible.” Carlisle scribbles in the chart and then hurries out.

Things move faster after that. Esme goes outside to call Rosalie’s parents, and a nurse comes in and kicks me out so that she can get Rosalie into a hospital gown and do the IV. Someone drags in a portable ultrasound machine, and then Carlisle returns with another person in scrubs that I guess might be a surgeon. It’s hard to sit outside and wait, especially when I hear Rosalie’s agonised cry as they examine her. Finally, they let me back in.

I walk softly over to the side of the bed. “Hey. You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Rosalie smiles sleepily and looks at me with glassy eyes. “I don’t know what they gave me, but I’m feeling a lot better actually.”

I’m not even conscious of moving my hands until I feel the bite of my teeth on my knuckles. I’m so glad that she’s not in pain anymore, but the sense of revulsion I feel at seeing her under the influence of opiates hits me like a punch in the gut. This is what those drugs are _supposed_ to be used for, this is a normal and correct time for them…but I still have to take a deep breath and force my face into a smile. “That’s good.”

“How are you, sweetie?” Esme asks Rosalie as she comes into the cubicle. “I’ve called and left messages for your dad and your mom. I also called Bridget and told her where you are and asked her to put a bag together for you with some pyjamas and a toothbrush. I’ll pick it up and bring it in, you’re going to be here for a day or two.”

“I’m sorry I’m so much trouble,” Rosalie mumbles.

Esme shakes her head and smiles. “You’re no trouble sweetheart. Carlisle said they’re going to take you upstairs soon. He’s still on duty now, but he should be finished by the time the surgery is through and can see you in recovery and make sure you get settled into the ward afterwards. I thought once they take you off I might take Emmett home for something to eat, and then we’ll pick up your things at your house and bring them in to you at evening visiting hours. How does that sound?” After Rosalie nods she looks over at me. “Emmett? Okay with you too?”

“Can’t I just stay?” In the hospital gown and in the bed Rosalie looks vulnerable and almost scared. I don’t want to leave her.

“I think it’s a better idea to go home and come back,” Esme says. “Get you a good meal, and bring back what Rosalie will need while she’s admitted.”

“Esme’s right.” Carlisle is back now. “They won’t let you into the recovery area anyway, Emmett, so you’d just be stuck in the waiting room until she’s on the ward.” He smiles at Rosalie. “How’s the pain now?”

“Better,” she yawns. “Whatever is in this IV is great.”

Carlisle laughs gently. “That’s good, we don’t want you hurting. They’re setting up the OR for you now, so I’ve got an orderly coming in to move you. The sooner we get this show on the road the better. I’ll come with you, okay?”

“Thank you,” Rosalie says, her voice small. She reaches out and touches my hand, wincing slightly. “Come back later?”

“Of course,” I clear my throat. “I’ll bring you your stuff…anything in particular you want?”

An orderly comes in before she answers, and I’m forced to step back as they quickly arrange things to move her. The last thing I see before she disappears from sight is her big, frightened eyes.

“Emmett.” Esme reaches up and takes hold of my wrist, drawing my fist away from my mouth to stop me biting on it. I hadn’t even known I was doing it. “She’s going to be fine; the surgeon here is excellent and they’re fairly confident that her appendix hasn’t ruptured yet so it’s going to be a quick, routine procedure. Don’t panic.”

“I know, it’s not…it’s not that.” My heart is pounding, and I find myself pulling my hand back and sinking my teeth in, just to feel the steadiness of that familiar pain. “Not just that, anyway. I just keep thinking of when it was Alice. And I didn’t like seeing her…seeing Rosalie high. I mean, better than seeing her in pain, but still…” My voice cracks, and I let my words trail off.

“Oh Emmett,” Esme says compassionately, squeezing my hands. “I could see you were having difficulty- that’s part of the reason that I thought I should take you home. Let you calm down and reset, as it were. It’s understandable that this would be a tough environment for you to be in.”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “This is so stupid. I want to be there for her, but seeing her eyes like that was…” I don’t have words.

Esme hugs me. “Sweetheart, it’s not surprising that this makes you uncomfortable. You’ve been watching your mom misuse drugs your whole life and she just died from an overdose. But this is not that – Rosalie was given a safe and appropriate medication for her current situation. That’s all, okay? She’ll probably be on IV painkillers tonight, and then tapered off pain relief as she no longer needs it.”

She takes my arm and leads me firmly back through the ER and out of the hospital. I take a couple of deep breaths of fresh air that doesn’t leave the taste of antiseptic on my tongue and feel my anxiety ease a little. _It’s going to be fine._

_____________________________________________

Rosalie is in a private room at the far end of the surgical ward when I return for evening visiting hours. She smiles when she sees me at the door, but she looks pale and exhausted.

“I bought you a bag,” I say, putting the backpack on the portable table. “Bridget put it together; she said there’s pyjamas and toiletries and a book, and she’ll come and visit you tomorrow so text if you want something else. And Alice made you a card.” I hand it to her. There’s so much glitter glued to it the cardstock is almost bending under the weight. “She and Edward said to tell you that they hope you feel better soon.”

Rosalie opens the card and a waterfall of glitter rains down all over the bed. She laughs, although it only lasts for a second before she stops with a grimace.

“Are you okay?” I quickly take the car and prop it up on the bedside locker.

“It hurts a bit to laugh, that’s all. I’m not really feeling too bad though, they’ve been pretty good with the painkillers. They said the surgery was straightforward, my appendix hadn’t ruptured although it was pretty close, so it was just a matter of getting it out. I can probably go home on Wednesday, although I won’t be able to cheer for a couple of weeks,” she says glumly.

I drag a chair over to the bedside and sit down, leaning over and kissing her softly. “That’s good. You kind of scared the shit out of me, you know? I’m glad you’re okay.”

Rosalie leans towards me and I give her an awkward hug, careful not to get tangled up in the IV or press against her torso at all.

“I’m so glad you were there,” she says, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “I felt so awful, I just couldn’t even think what to do about it…thank you.”

I feel the shake in her shoulders as she starts crying, and I hold her a little tighter. “It’s okay, you’re okay…I love you.”

“I talked to my mom.” Rosalie pulls away and wipes her eyes. “She won’t be back until the weekend…she’s shooting a festival and she said that since my surgery is all over and I’m fine she’ll do her shoot first and then get a flight back later in the week. I guess I’m just supposed to take care of myself until then.” Her voice cracks and she covers her face with her hands.

I wrap my arms around her and let her cry into my chest. I’ve never seen Rosalie so hurt, and I can’t even get my head around the idea of her mom not cancelling what she’s doing and coming right back. I wonder bleakly if the whole concept of motherhood that I’ve been wishing for my whole life even exists anywhere.

But then Carlisle and Esme come in, carrying a bunch of Mylar helium balloons and a box of chocolates, and I realise that it _does_. Because it’s right here in front of me, and it has been ever since I called Esme from the ER when Alice was sick.

There’s more to being a parent than just not using drugs and abusing your kids like my mom did. There’s more to being a parent than providing everything material and then some like Rosalie’s parents do. It’s being there. It’s bedtime stories and meetings at school and helping with homework and asking about someone’s day. It’s doing laundry and teaching someone to drive and taking someone to the hospital when they’re dumb enough to need their head stapled back together. It’s listening to their stories, and having their back and teaching them to make the right choices and accepting that screw ups are just part of the process. It’s a balloon bouquet, and Esme helping a weak Rosalie walk to the bathroom and change out of the hospital gown and into her pyjamas. It’s Carlisle, squeezing my shoulder and telling me in his quiet way that it’s going to be fine, and knowing I can believe him because he never lies.

“I want you and Esme to adopt me,” I blurt out. “I’ve thought about it and…I want that.”

Carlisle blinks at me, and then a slow smile curves up his mouth. “Where did that come from?”

I shrug a little self-consciously, but he looks so genuinely happy that I can’t help grinning back at him. “I think that you and Esme have been doing the mom and dad thing for me and Alice for a while, and it’s good. It’s really, really good…today just made me realise how lucky I am that we found that, and that I really don’t want to let it go.” I can hear the low murmur of Esme and Rosalie talking in the bathroom. “Rosalie was really sick today and her mom isn’t even coming right back for her, but you and Esme have turned your whole world upside down for me and Alice and we weren’t even really yours. It’s like you’re already our mom and dad in all the ways that matter anyway…I want that to be real.”

Carlisle hugs me. “We’ll make it official with adoption. But it was always real, Emmett...Esme and I loved you and Alice from the moment you walked through the door, and when your mom died I knew we never wanted to let you go.”


	46. Not a Second Choice

When I get home from school on Wednesday, I’m greeted by the sight of Rosalie curled up asleep in my bed. I don’t want to wake her, but before I can back out she stirs and her blue eyes flicker open.

“Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hey you.” I sit cautiously on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry if I woke you- I didn’t know you’d be in here.”

Rosalie smiles sleepily. “The hospital discharged me this morning, but my dad won’t be back until later and Esme didn’t think I should be at home by myself. So she brought me here.”

“So your dad is on his way home?” I ask.

“Yes. He cancelled all his meetings and turned around once he knew I was sick- it’s just unfortunate that it was Australia. I mean, I suppose he could have been in Antarctica, that _might_ have been more inconvenient, but he couldn’t really have been much further away if he’d tried.” Rosalie sighs. “He’ll be back later tonight, so I’m just going to hang here until he turns up.”

“Have you spoken to your mom again?” I ask hesitantly.

Rosalie nods. “Yes. She’s getting back on Friday; this festival she’s shooting goes for several days so she’s doing the first two days and skipping the rest to fly back…I guess it’s better than nothing.” Rosalie bites her lip. “I know I can’t complain, it’s her work and she’s been researching and writing about this festival for months and can’t exactly reschedule a whole island celebration just for me, but…”

“You can complain,” I say gently. “It’s her work, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t want her with you when you’re sick. Or any other time, for that matter.”

“You’re very good to me,” Rosalie says, reaching out for my hand. “For someone whose own mother wasn’t exactly mother of the year, you’re surprisingly nurturing sometimes.”

I half laugh. “Thanks? But honestly, I think a lot of it was that I had my grandma when I was little. She could be pretty fucking hardass, but she loved me a lot and she loved me unconditionally. That matters to a kid.” I run a hand through my hair. “I guess then there was Alice, and I was really all she had a lot of the time so I had to figure it out. Now there’s Carlisle and Esme, and maybe they’re rubbing off on me…but I love you, and I want to take care of you in my own dumbass way.”

“You do.” Rosalie’s smile is luminous. “I am so lucky that you walked into my life. And you’re right about Carlisle and Esme- if I ever have a baby I want to be exactly like them. I mean, I’m not even theirs and Carlisle stayed with me after I woke up from surgery until I was up on the ward, and Esme brought me here and promised to bake me cupcakes for afternoon snack and tucked me up here so I could rest…I hope you don’t mind that I took a nap in your bed.”

“Not at all.” I stretch out on the bed beside her, careful not to bounce or jostle her. I guess she’s feeling better now though, because she rolls over and curls up against me, and I sigh and kiss her. “Although I’ve got to say, whenever I’ve imagined you asleep in my bed, this wasn’t exactly the way I thought it was going to happen.”

Rosalie raises an eyebrow. “Oh yes? And what did you imagine?”

“Well, it didn’t involve stitches in your belly and me being afraid to touch you in case I hurt you!” I say lightly. “Maybe I’ll just leave it at that!”

“I feel pretty good though,” Rosalie murmurs. “I’m not going to be up doing somersaults or anything for a while, but I’m not too sore to just lie here and maybe do this, just a little bit…” And she raises her face and kisses me.

I go with it, because she’s beautiful and I adore her and I’m pretty much never going to say no to her, but I don’t let it get too far before I reluctantly pull away.

“Enough,” I say hoarsely, stroking the curve of her lower lip. “You’ve just got out of hospital, and I’m not going to do something that could hurt you. And if I keep kissing you…especially here in bed while you’re wearing that…” I swallow hard as my eyes drift downwards. Rosalie’s wearing pyjamas, a loose tank top without a bra underneath, and the way she’s lying in bed it doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination. “My self control has its limits.”

Rosalie sighs and nips at my fingers on her lip, tugging her top back into place. “I know, but you’re…you.” She grins. “And I’m sick of self control.”

I can’t help laughing, but I feel the adhesive dressings over the incisions on her lower belly as my hand brushes across her and I sit up. “Yeah, you’re not the only one.”

Rosalie manages to sit upright too, although she moves stiffly and cautiously. “It’s crazy the way I love you,” she says quietly, and the look of vulnerability in her face catches at my heart. “Right from the first moment I saw you, I knew. It didn’t make sense, I didn’t understand it at all, but I knew…you were mine.”

My fingertips caress the beautiful face that I know I’ll never tire of looking at, and I smile and touch my lips to hers. “Yes,” I murmur. “I’m yours.”

And it’s true – the two of us belong together. Somehow, some way…this works, and I know enough of the ugly and messy and hurtful side of life to know that if I’ve been lucky enough to find something so beautiful, I need to grasp it with both hands and never let it go.

________________________________________________

Jack, Rosalie’s dad, arrives at dinner time. He looks haggard; I guess spending almost forty-eight consecutive hours on a plane will do that to a man.

“Princess, what are you doing to me?” he exclaims, bending over her on the sofa and hugging her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick before I left?”

“I’m sorry,” Rosalie says. “I didn’t think it was that bad! I mean, I thought I pulled a muscle on Saturday, and then on Sunday I thought maybe it was a girl thing…by the time I realised it was something serious you’d already left. Ouch dad, don’t hug so hard!”

“Sorry.” Jack releases her and stands up. “But it was really hard to know that you were in trouble and I was so far away! I hated thinking that you were alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Rosalie says, and her eyes meet mine across the room. “Emmett was there, and then Esme and Carlisle took care of everything.”

Jack hugs Esme. “Thank you for looking after her. I don’t know what we would do without you and Carlisle.”

Esme smiles. “It’s our pleasure; you and Lily and Rosalie really feel like family and that’s what you do for family. Now, come and have a glass of wine. Carlisle will be home any minute, and you and Rosalie have to stay for dinner.”

Jack follows Esme into the kitchen, and I go and sit beside Rosalie on the sofa. “It’s a weird kind of family, if you ask me,” I say, taking hold of her hand.

“Different, not weird,” Rosalie corrects me. “And even if it _is_ weird, how is it not better to have more people who love you? Who consider you family and are there for you? Believe me, I’d rather have a family like the Cullens who _choose_ it every single day, than some shitty person who doesn’t care about you just because they’ve got your blood.”

“That’s what I tried to tell Emmett.” Alice, who I hadn’t even realised was listening, looks up from arranging the plastic animals around a sleeping Catkin. “There can be different kinds of families…like we had our family with our mom and we were all related but it wasn’t that good, so now we have a foster family with Carlisle and Esme and that’s better. And like…Edward has a different mom, but he can still be my brother now because we live in the same house and he looks after me sometimes and teaches me to play the piano. Family is just about who really loves you.”

“You should listen to her,” Rosalie tells me with a grin. “Alice knows what’s up.”

“You’re both right,” I say with a laugh. “Family can be whatever you make it…aren’t I lucky to have such smart girls as part of mine?”

I think about family as we eat dinner with Jack and Rosalie, and then once they leave I think about it some more while we all pitch in to clean up the kitchen. Esme stacks the dishwasher while Carlisle washes the pots and Edward dries, and Alice puts away the condiments while I sweep up under the table. Once we’re all done I sit in the living room and listen to Alice read her school book to Carlisle while I doodle absent-mindedly in a notebook. _Family._

“Beautiful reading,” Carlisle tells Alice approvingly, signing her reading diary. “You’re doing such good work.”

“Miss Caspar says I’m getting better and I might be in the top reading group soon,” Alice says, putting her books onto the coffee table.

“You should be very proud of how much you’re improving,” Esme says cheerfully. “Practise makes perfect, and you’ve been reading every day.”

It’s true that Alice is doing better at school, not that she was ever doing badly. But the early part of her reading diary from when we were living at home has my name in it a couple of times and a few signatures from Momma to say that Alice read, but it isn’t like the neat columns of titles and Esme and Carlisle’s names that she’s got now, and it’s amazing how much of a difference it’s making to her. Thinking about how much I’m still struggling, I wonder how different it might have been if I’d had that kind of back up when I was a kid and sigh. I would have still had dyslexia, but if I’d had special ed when I was six I’d probably be a lot further along at sixteen than I am now.

“Do you like doing my reading?” Alice asks Esme, crawling onto her lap. “It’s good, right?”

It’s a question Alice asks most nights. It’s similar to a million other questions she asks every day, questions that boil down to one thing – her desperate desire for reassurance. _Tell me that I’m good. Tell me that you want me here. Tell me that I’m worth something._

And Esme, always, gives Alice exactly what she needs. “Yes,” she says, wrapping her arms around Alice and rocking her like a baby to make her laugh. “I love doing your reading homework with you. So does Carlisle; that’s why we take it in turns to help, so neither of us have to miss out!”

Alice giggles. “And you’re still going to come and be the parent helper on the field trip, right? And you’ll sit with me on the bus?”

“Of course,” Esme says, smoothing back Alice’s hair and kissing her forehead. “I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t been to the museum since I was a parent helper for Edward’s elementary school field trip.” She glances across at Carlisle. “Actually Alice, Carlisle and I love being your mom and dad so much that we wanted to talk to you about maybe making that official.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’d really like to adopt you, and become your official mom and dad instead of a foster mom and dad. Emmett too. Adoption is for always; if we do that then you would be our daughter and Emmett would be our son, just like Edward…this would be our family forever,” Esme says gently.

“Mara could never make me go and live somewhere else?” Alice is twisting Esme’s shirt anxiously between her fingers. “I could really, _always_ , stay with you?”

“Always,” Esme promises.

“Could I call you Mommy? And tell people you’re my real mom?” Alice’s voice is so small I can hardly hear her. “And I could say Daddy?”

“Absolutely.” Carlisle goes down on his knees beside the sofa, his arms encircling Esme and Alice together. “I would really love that.”

“Then yes,” Alice says, quietly at first but her voice growing stronger as her smile gets bigger. “Yes! Yes, I want you to adopt me! When? Tomorrow?”

Carlisle laughs, and I see Esme surreptitiously wipe her eyes and I’ll be damned if there aren’t tears blurring my vision too. How the hell did we get so lucky?

“Adoption takes a little while,” Carlisle tells Alice, easing himself up onto the sofa. “Although you’re already here, so that’s a great start! But there’s a lot of paperwork to fill out and file. Someone from social services will have to do a visit here to make sure that we’re looking after you properly and that you and Emmett really want to be adopted. Eventually we’ll go before a judge and tell them that that’s what we all really want, and then they’ll give you a new birth certificate and we can officially change your name if you want.”

“Really?” Alice perks up. “Can I be called Esmeralda?”

“No! What’s wrong with Alice?” Carlisle says, startled. “I meant we can change your last name, and you can be a Cullen too, like us. Although if you would rather keep your name as it is, we can do that too,” he adds, more in my direction.

“Alice Cullen,” she says. “I like that. And I’d get to change my place in line when it’s alphabetical, from B for Brandon to C for Cullen.” She looks over at me. “And you could be Emmett Cullen instead of McCarty and then we would get to be the same.”

I nod slowly. “That might be good.” The idea of changing my name hadn’t occurred to me until now.

“How long will it take?” Alice asks, looking frustrated. “Two weeks? Or two years?”

“It’s hard to say,” Carlisle admits. “Probably a few months, depending on how long it takes to get the paperwork in order. Your father has already said it’s okay for Esme and I to adopt you, but we’re going to have to look for Emmett’s dad and that might take a while, we just don’t know. But I promise we’re going to do everything we can to make it all happen as soon as possible.”

“What’s happening as soon as possible?” Edward asks, coming in from the other room, cracking his fingers after playing the piano.

“We’ve just been discussing adoption with Alice,” Esme says.

“And what’s the verdict?” Edward grins at Alice. Obviously this isn’t news to him. “Do you think you’d like to be a Cullen?”

“Yes!” Alice shouts gleefully.

“Excellent!” Edward sinks into the armchair. “I’ve always wanted a sister.”

“And a brother too?” Alice wants to know.

“Yes, absolutely…I didn’t necessarily expect a _bigger_ brother, but I’m not going to send him back now that I’ve got him.” Edward laughs as he looks over at me.

“You knew about this then?” I ask.

He nods. “Carlisle and Esme and I talked it over, before they said anything to you. I think, if you and Alice want it, then it’s a good idea.”

“You don’t mind?”

“What, that I’ll have to split any inheritance three ways?” Edward snorts, and Carlisle throws a cushion at him. “No Emmett, I think it’s great. The circumstances that led up to this, the things with your mother, with my mother…well, I don’t think we’ll ever say it was for the best.” I can see him choosing his words carefully. “But the five of us becoming a family, that at least gives us the option of making something good out of it.”

 “Why didn’t you have your own baby?” Alice asks suddenly. “Because you adopted Edward first and now you want to adopt me and Emmett…do you only like big kids?”

Carlisle laughs. “Well, we do like older kids….there are no diapers, and you’re all big enough to talk and tell me what you think, which is nice.” He still has an arm around Esme, and he softly kisses the top of her head.

Esme smiles up at him and says, “I did have a baby once. I was married before Carlisle, and I had a son. His name was William, and he only lived for a very short time.”

“Oh.” Alice’s face falls. “That is so sad.”

Esme hugs her. “It was sad. He was born very early, and he was very sick. It turned out that even thought I really wanted to be a mother, my body wasn’t very good at growing a healthy baby. And my husband wasn’t very nice either, so I didn’t want to try to have any more babies with him.” She smiles at Carlisle and then looks across at Edward and I and says a little hesitantly. “Carlisle and I could have tried to have biological children. But he already had Edward, who needed a mother, and we were happy to make our family that way. I don’t want any of you to ever think that adoption was a second choice, or second best for us...this family is everything we ever wanted.”


	47. My Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is nearly finished and I’ve been drinking, so have another chapter! 
> 
> Just wanted to say thank you so much for all your love for this story too! I was so scared to put it out there, since it’s so far from canon and writing canon-compliant stories was always my thing…but I have loved writing it, and it means so much to me that people are really enjoying it and connecting with it. I’m more grateful than I can say for all the kindness and encouragement of you all reading this – thank you.

“Emmett, I was wondering if we could…what _are_ you doing?” Carlisle appears in the doorway of my room, staring at me in confusion.

“Just drawing,” I say with a grin.

“On me!” Alice, who has been draped on her belly over a pile of pillows, scrambles on to her knees. “Look!” She twists around to show Carlisle her bare back and the pair of angel wings I’ve sketched sprouting from her bony shoulder blades.

“Emmett!” Esme comes in and inspects Alice’s back. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“It’s just marker, it’ll wash off eventually.” I lick my thumb and swipe it across the tip of a feather, blurring the lines. “See? I just wanted to try it out; it’s a totally different thing drawing on a human body. Especially when she won’t stop laughing and squirming around!”

“That’s because it tickles!” Alice protests. She picks up the tattoo magazine and shows Esme the page I’m copying from. “I wanted it like this. Like a real angel…is he doing it good?” She cranes her neck around, trying to see over her own shoulder.

“Emmett’s doing a very good job actually,” Esme says, sounding a little surprised. “Although I’m not sure how appropriate it is, doing a full back piece on your six year old sister, even if it is only marker!” She shakes her head at me, but I can tell she’s not serious and I just laugh.

“I tried drawing on myself first, but I couldn’t reach enough places and I’ve got too much leg hair,” I admit. “It’s easier on her, and I figured it’s just her back – no one will see it.”

“No way; _everyone_ is going to see it because I’m going to show them,” Alice corrects me, gazing raptly over her shoulder at her reflection in the closet mirror. “Nobody else at school has anything so cool.”

“Well, let me finish then.”

She flops obediently back down on the pillows and I fill in the last few feathers on the right wing, trying to work with the lines of her body to make it look as good on her back as it did on the flat piece of paper I practised on. “You’re done.”

“I’m going to go and show Edward!” Alice tumbles off the bed and dashes out of the room.

I start gathering up the markers and slotting them back into the case. “Did you want something?”

“We wanted to talk to you for a moment,” Carlisle says. He pulls the desk chair around and sits in it, while Esme takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

I back up until I’m leaning against the headboard and eye them uncertainly. “What’s up?”

“We’ve found your father,” Carlisle says, getting right to the point.

“Oh.” The news comes completely out of the blue; it’s only been a few weeks since the idea of contacting my father about signing adoption papers was first raised and we all assumed it would take a lot longer. I told them to go ahead with searching, but having to deal with the reality has come around much sooner than I was expecting and I don’t know if I’m ready for it. “That was…quick.”

“Yes, well it wasn’t actually all that difficult apparently.” Carlisle murmurs, scratching his head. “We hired an investigator and they were able to locate him quite easily.”

“And?” I prompt, when he doesn’t say anything further. He and Esme exchange glances, and I can feel my stomach tightening. “Look, whatever it is…just tell me. I’m not expecting anything good from this. So what’s the story? Where did you find him?”

“Prison,” Carlisle says softly. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “No big surprise. Look at my mom’s life and her general choice in men…why would my dad be any less of a deadbeat?”

I want to sound careless, but I can’t stop myself biting at my knuckles and when Esme moves closer and rubs my shoulder I don’t pull away. “What did he do?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

There’s a long pause. “Involuntary manslaughter,” Carlisle says. “He’s eleven years into a fifteen to twenty year term, at a medium security facility. We have the details of the crime if you want them.”

“Damn.” I bite harder. “So, not just your regular deadbeat dad then. Fuck, my mom was a junkie and my dad’s a murderer…you really want to take me on knowing that?”

“Oh Emmett, of course we do!” Esme pulls my hand away from my mouth and reaches up to give me a fierce hug me. “We love you…this doesn’t change anything at all. And don’t jump to conclusions about Luke; his story isn’t the prettiest, but he’s not all bad either.”

“How do you…did you talk to him?”

Esme nods. “I did. The investigator found him within a week, but we didn’t want to say anything until we had something more to tell you. It took a little while to get in touch, and then to make arrangements for me to talk to him on the phone.”

“Is he going to sign the papers?” I don’t look at them.

“Yes, he’s happy to sign if that’s what you want. He did ask though, if it was possible that he could meet you.” Once again, Esme takes my hands out of my mouth. “He said to be sure you know that it’s not a condition, he’ll sign the papers regardless and he understands if you’re not interested. But he’d like to see you, if you’re willing.”

I rearrange the markers in rainbow order. “Why?” I say. “It’s a bit late now…maybe if he’d wanted to see me when I was a little kid who really wanted a dad around, that would have been good. Or if he’d showed up when I had a stepdad beating the shit out of me, I might have wanted to see him then. But it’s been sixteen years that he hasn’t given a crap about me, so why is he suddenly wanting to see me now?”

“I suppose you could ask him,” Esme says. “Perhaps he’s just curious? Perhaps he wants to explain.”

“You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to,” Carlisle says. “It’s completely up to you – you don’t owe him anything. But Esme and I thought we should give you the choice.”

“Do you think I should?”

Carlisle hesitates. “I couldn’t really say either way. As a doctor I’ll always say that knowing your family medical history can be helpful, and he’s responsible for half your genetic make up. Seeing him might give you some answers to questions you have about your life and his role in it. But do you want those answers? Is it worth it? That’s something only you can really decide.”

“You can take your time to think about it. Luke said he’ll sign the papers to terminate his parental rights so the adoption can proceed, so there’s no pressure there. And, well…he’s not really going anywhere, is he?” Esme shrugs a little awkwardly. “So even if you decide you don’t want to meet him now, you know where he is in the future.”

I can’t help laughing. “I suppose that’s a bonus to him being banged up, he can’t just disappear?” I shift restlessly. “My mom didn’t say a lot about him, and what she did say wasn’t exactly all that complimentary most of the time. I didn’t even know his name until I had to make a family tree at school in second grade! But for years I always really wished…I wanted a dad, and I wished he would show the tiniest bit of interest, even just once.”

Esme hugs me. “He was the one missing out. All those years when he could have been your dad, and he didn’t jump in with both feet!”

Esme’s love is like a warm, cosy blanket that wraps around me. “I guess all I really want to know is what he was thinking. I mean, how do you know you have a kid out there and not even want to know them?”

“I have no idea,” Carlisle says. “But if you want to meet him you can ask him. If not, it doesn’t matter. He’s still going to sign the papers to say we can adopt you, which makes that all a lot simpler.” He eyes me keenly. “You’re okay with this?”

I shrug. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t expecting it, but…I can deal. I’ll think about it.”

“It doesn’t have to be a face-to-face meeting at the prison or nothing either,” Esme says. “We can arrange a phone call, or you could write a letter if that’s easier. Whatever you want to do…Luke made his choice to walk a long time ago; this time you get to choose what happens.”

_________________________________________________

The afternoon is warm and sunny, and Esme, Carlisle and Alice all decide to come to the football game with me. It’s Rosalie’s first game back after having her appendix out, and I promised I’d be there.

After stocking up on burgers and hotdogs and a bucket of candyfloss for Alice, we sit on the bleachers behind the cheerleaders. Rosalie waves when she sees us, and as soon as she can get away she comes bounding over.

“Are you up for this?” I stand up and give her a hug.

“More than ready,” Rosalie says fervently. “You know I’ve hated being on the bench.”

Her recovery from surgery was quick, but her surgeon was cautious about letting her get back to it and she’s chafed under the restrictions. Rosalie is never pleased with being denied something she wants.

“Well don’t over-do it,” Carlisle warns her. “If _anything_ doesn’t feel right, sit it out.”

“Yes Dr Cullen,” Rosalie says, rolling her eyes at him. “But seriously, I’m fine! I feel really, really good…I’ll talk to you later.” The backflip she does off the edge of the bleachers goes some way to proving her point.

I love watching Rosalie cheer. I’m not the only one; she plays to the crowd and breathes in the admiration like air, basking in the attention. It doesn’t bother me – I love seeing her happy, and how can I feel any animosity towards anyone else who thinks she’s beautiful when she’s all I ever want to look at too? And at the end of the day, no one else matters when she looks right past them and sees only me.

Camden’s team has never quite got it back after losing Royce and his cronies, and they’re having a bad season. Today’s game ends in another loss. Esme, Carlisle and Alice leave with the rest of the disappointed crowd, and I hang about and wait for Rosalie.

“I’m going to do my test next week,” I tell her as she drives us towards her house. “After that I’ll be able to drive _you_ someplace for a change.”

I’m teasing her; I know Rosalie’s opinion on cars and sure enough she just laughs in my face. “In the Volvo?” Rosalie grins. “I appreciate the sentiment Emmett but…why would I let you drive me in _that_ when I could be driving around in _this_?”

“Well, you could let me drive this?” I suggest.

“Well that’s not going to happen,” she snorts. “There’s love, and then there’s my BMW.”

I laugh comfortably. I have no desire to drive Rosalie’s ostentatious sports car around and she knows it.

At her place we say hi to her parents, who are cooking something spicy and delicious smelling in the kitchen, and then head upstairs. While Rosalie showers I stretch out on her bed and flip through the channels on the tv.

“What are you watching?” Rosalie reappears, wearing a short skirt and t-shirt and smelling of hair products and shower gel, and sits beside me.

“Aussie Rules football.” I run my hand along her thigh. “You look beautiful…are we doing anything tonight?”

“There’s a cookout at Jim’s place,” Rosalie says. “But that’s not until later…”

She lowers her face to mine and, as much as I enjoy some good Australian sport, it quickly disappears into the background as all my senses focus on my beautiful girl right in front of me. Kissing her, my hands on her, breathing in the way she smells and tastes…there isn’t anything else in the world for me but this.

I just about lose my ability to speak when Rosalie raises her t-shirt over her head and slips out of her bra. Looking at her takes my breath away, and when I yank my own t-shirt off hard enough to pop the stitching in the neck, the feel of her bare flesh against mine is overwhelming. Rosalie shivers as I caress her breasts, and when I take one of her hard nipples in my mouth she makes a noise I’ve never heard before and her hands go to my fly. She unbuttons and unzips my jeans and then I’m the one making noise as she springs my dick free and wraps her hands around it.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

“Yes, god...so okay,” I gasp. “ _Really_ okay…unghhh.” I stretch my hands over my head and grip my hair for a moment, staring at what she’s doing to me. “I’m going to come in about ten seconds flat though, so…”

Rosalie’s hands slow down. “I don’t mind. But I can stop if you want.”

“No, no, keep going,” I say hastily. “Just thought I should let you know…oh my god, yes, yes, yes…” I orgasm hard, spilling across her hand and up my belly, my toes curling with bliss. “ _Oh yes_ ….shit, please don’t touch my dick right now.”

Rosalie laughs and releases her hold on my now hyper sensitive penis, slipping off the bed and returning a second later with a handful of tissues that she passes to me.

Half embarrassed, I clean myself up. “Sorry, that went everywhere.” Crumpling up the tissues I leave them on her nightstand and then kick off my jeans before I reach towards her. “Come here.”

Rosalie stretches back out alongside me. “What?”

“Well…isn’t it your turn?” I keep my eyes on her face as I hook my fingers in the waistband of her skirt and begin pulling it down over her hips, catching up her knickers at the same time. She lets me, squirming slightly until I’m able slip them down to her knees and then off. “Do I get to do that to you now?” I run my hand up her thigh, letting my fingers brush teasingly over the cleft between her legs.

Rosalie cups her hands around my face and kisses me deeply. “You can definitely do that to me,” she murmurs, her cheeks turning pink.

I touch her slowly, lightly, not really sure of what I’m doing and not wanting to do it wrong. The real life soft, wet, heat of her is initially kind of hard to match up with the anatomical diagram from the sex ed booklet that I have in my head. I take my time figuring it out, watching for every sign that she likes what I’m doing, listening for every little sigh and moan and muted noise of pleasure, following every panted and gasped direction, feeling her get wetter and more slick under my hands as I’m doing more and more right. Then I hit a rhythm that works for her and Rosalie arches her back and grabs at my shoulder, muttering, “Just keep doing that…exactly that…” and then she comes, shuddering as her thighs clamp on my hand and she buries her face in my neck.

Watching Rosalie come is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life and I roll over onto her, kissing and touching her all over again as she writhes against me. I’m hard again, and my cock nudges at her as she wraps her legs around me and shivers. I’m never going to get enough of her.

“Wait.” Rosalie kisses my chest and then rolls away from me, giving me a view that I’m pretty sure is going to stay in my mind for further appreciation later, and comes back with a condom packet in her hand. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah, I want to,” I say fervently. “But only if you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Rosalie squeezes my dick and then laughs a little when I groan. “Do you know how to put one of these things on?”

“Well, theoretically yes…” I take the condom from her and tear it open. I’ve read the instruction on how to do it, and even though the prospect of what we’re about to do is making my hands shake I manage to roll it on without any mishaps. Rosalie watches and then pulls me back down onto her, kissing me deeply.

It’s definitely a lot more awkward than I anticipated, trying to get everything lined up at the right angle. I’m also really scared of hurting her and don’t know how hard to go as I thrust into her. But she’s wet and slippery and she wants me, and suddenly we’re there, my cock deep inside her and her thighs squeezing mine as I stare into her eyes. Somehow this is so much more than I expected; not how good it feels ( _oh this feels so fucking good_ ) but how strong this sudden rush of love and connection feels as it flood through me. _I love you. You are all I want._ I bend closer and kiss her again, moving slowly and at first and then faster, giving myself over to the wonder and bliss of the moment and the beautiful girl in it with me.

 


	48. Fathers

The prison is in a rural area, surrounded by razor wire and overlooked by guard towers. It’s neat and the gardens out the front are immaculately tended, but it still looks grim and my stomach tightens as Carlisle turns into the spot in the parking lot and cuts the engine. I scrape my teeth across my knuckles and force myself to take a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Carlisle asks quietly. “Still want to do this?”

I nod. “Yeah. It’s just scary.”

“Do you want me to walk you in?” Carlisle offers. “Or should I just wait here in the car?”

“I’ll be okay on my own. You don’t mind waiting?”

Carlisle shakes his head. “No, I’ve got a few medical journals that I’ve been procrastinating on that will make any wait time very productive for me! Leave your phone here with me, they won’t let you take it in so just take your id.”

I dump everything from my pockets in the centre console and then leave the car, walking through the parking lot towards the signposted visitor’s entrance. There are a few other people doing the same thing, an older couple who look like they might be someone’s parents and a couple of women with babies and toddlers, and I get in line behind them.

It’s brighter inside than I would have expected, and the woman I approach to ask what I’m supposed to do is friendly and helpful.

“Who are you here for?”

“Luke Marron,” I say.

“Is he expecting you?” She starts filling in a printed form. “What’s your name?”

“Emmett McCarty.” I hand over my newly minted drivers license and she writes the number and then briskly photocopies it before she gives it back.

“Address and phone number? What’s the license plate on the car you drove here in today?” She writes down my answers and then asks, “What’s your relationship to Luke?”

I must look kind of blank, because she grins at me and says, “Family? Friend? I need to make a note of visitor category.”

“Oh.” I feel kind of stupid. “Sorry. I’ve never been here before. Um, he’s…my father.”

“Okay Emmett. We’re going to call Luke down to the visiting room now. Did you read the rules about the visit before you came? You don’t have anything on you that you shouldn’t?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I just have my id and some change for the vending machine. I read the rules.” I dig out the plastic Ziploc bag that Carlisle put money in for me and show it to her.

“That’s fine. I’ll stamp you and then you’ll need to go through the scanners over there and a guard will take you to the visiting room. If you want to go to the toilet you should do that first, because you won’t be able to leave and then return.” She waves me on and turns her attention to the person behind me.

I go through the metal detectors and then a beagle wearing a vest gives me a good going over with his nose. For a moment I panic that Carlisle has covered me in drug residue from his work or something, but the dog just wags his tail and moves on and I’m free to go to the visiting room. The guard at the door checks the stamp on the back of my hand and points me in the direction of a table over by the far wall, and with legs that feel almost shaky I walk through the noisy room and, for the first time in my life, come face to face with my father.

I wouldn’t have known him, not at first glance. Not until he stands up and smiles at me, and then the dimpled grin is like looking in a mirror.

“Emmett.” Luke reaches out and grips my hand, shaking it hard. “I’m so glad you came…thank you.”

We sit down across from each other, a small table in between us. I can’t stop staring. He’s huge, as tall and broad as I am and but with probably fifty pounds or more of muscle on him than I have. Most of the exposed skin on his arms and neck is tattooed, but his clothes are pristine and his straight brown hair is neatly cut and so freshly washed that I can still see the marks of the comb.

He’s staring too, and the silence between us lengthens to awkwardness. I wish we were outside Gavin’s office with his basketball hoop…this would be a lot easier.

“Uh, do you want something to eat?” I mumble. “They told me to bring money for the vending machine, so I did…” I dig the money out of my pocket and put it on the table.

“That would be great,” Luke says. He’s a lot more relaxed than I am, even as he says matter of factly, “I’m not allowed to move around the room though so you’ll have to do it, but I’d love a Coke.”

“Oh…okay.” Relieved to have something to do I get up and cross to the vending machine. I get a couple of Cokes and then spend the rest of the money on snacks, choosing randomly because I don’t know what he likes.

“Thanks.” Luke takes a deep swallow of his soda.

I take mine and then reach out for the snacks. He reaches at the same time, and both our hands land on either end of a package of Skittles. For a moment there’s silence, and then we both start laughing and the tension is broken.

“Oh wow,” Luke says, looking at me intently. “I thought you looked like Maddie, but when you smiled…”

I touch my cheeks self-consciously. “The dimples.”

“Yeah.” Luke brushes a hand across his own face before he adds a little stiffly, “I’m real sorry about your mom. Maddie was…she was too young.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“But these people who want to adopt you now…they’re good people? I mean, this is what you want, isn’t it?” He flushes a dull red. “I know it isn’t any of my business and I’ve got no real right to even ask after all this time.”

“So why are you?” I ask directly. “Why did you even want to meet me now?”

“That’s a fair question,” Luke says. “I know I haven’t been any kind of father to you, and that’s all on me. You know why I’m in here?”

“Manslaughter. You killed someone.” I sound harder than I mean to, but at the same time I’m not all that interested in sparing his feelings.

But Luke just nods and says evenly, “That’s right. I did. It was a bar fight, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. And I’ve made a _lot_ of mistakes.” He shrugs. “I had a lot of trouble with drinking, and it led to me doing a lot of stuff that I regret. I didn’t stand up when you were born and do anything to take care of you or your mom, and then I was in and out of trouble with the law for a few years after that. Mostly petty crap, nothing too serious until the big one.”

“So what happened?” I can’t resist asking.

“To tell the truth, I don’t remember it. But I was shitfaced drunk and got into a fight and it went too far. I’m not making excuses for it, I did it and I deserve to live with the consequences I got.” He hesitates. “I gotta say…don’t start drinking Emmett. I’m not trying to tell you what to do – but there’s a streak of alcoholism a mile wide in the family and you don’t want to go down that road. I mean, my old man died drunk in a car accident, his old man died of liver failure, my mom is killing herself with it every day…I couldn’t control my drinking and it’s fucked up my life. Don’t let it happen to you.”

My mind immediately flashes back to puking in Rosalie’s bathroom after the tequila incident and I make a face. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Luke smiles wryly. “I drank a lot from pretty young, and it took me a long time to learn my lesson. Even after I landed in here, I was still fighting the world…it took a couple of years and some harsh knockdowns before I hit the point of recognising that I needed to change. But eventually I did, and I got sober and started working the program to stay that way. I did a pretty full stocktake of my life and it wasn’t a pretty story…I’ve spent the last few years doing what I can to get it under control and make the most of myself. I’m sober, I go to church, I went to the education program here until l got my GED, and now I’m working and doing whatever I can to prepare myself for the day I get out of here.”

“When do you get out?”

“I’ll be eligible for parole next year. Whether I get it…” Luke shrugs. “I try not to think about the specifics of it too much. I’ve got to do my time, however long it takes.” He looks at me. “Part of the twelve steps is making amends to those you’ve harmed, and I’ve thought a lot about what that means when it comes to you, and talked it over with my sponsor. I was sixteen when you were born and not ready to be a father, but I know that’s no excuse…I saw you a couple of times, but I chose drinking and fucking up over doing the right thing, and I’m damned sorry for that now. Over the years I wanted to reach out and tell you that I was sorry, that I let you down and I regret it, but I didn’t know if that was really the right thing to do. There’s nothing I could have done for you from in here, and I thought that your life was probably better off without a deadbeat convicted felon for a father.”

“So why change your mind and ask to meet me?” I bite my knuckles.

“It was talking to Mrs Cullen,” he says. “I was just going to sign the papers and make it easy for them to adopt you; honestly I figured that was the best thing I could for you. They’re keen to have you and he’s a doctor and all so they must do all right; I bet they can give you a great life. But she made me think that maybe I owed you something more. Maybe you’d want a chance to get some answers, or tell me what you think of me, or give me hell for being so useless to you…I don’t know, whatever. But it should be up to you.”

I nod slowly. “You never being there…that was a really shitty thing. I don’t even know how you walk away from your own kid like that. My mom was a high school dropout with a baby; how good did you really think my life was going to be?”

“I know; Maddie was a…she was a great girl, but she was a kid too and probably not any more ready to be a parent than I was.” Luke looks deeply uncomfortable now. “I can’t change what I did, but I recognise how wrong it was and I’m sorry for it. I hope it wasn’t too bad…I know Maddie’s old man was a right bastard, but she had her mom and I thought Mrs McCarty would probably see you both right. And Maddie was a pretty girl who was a lot of fun; I thought it probably wouldn’t take her too long to hook up with someone else who’d make a better dad for you than I would.” He looks at me chewing on my knuckles and frowns. “But I’m guessing…it didn’t happen like that?”

“No.” I hesitate. “My grandfather died when I was a baby. My grandma took care of me mostly and she was really good, but she died too, when I was seven. I had a stepfather for a while, but he was a bad guy and even though my mom tried, she…she was kind of a mess a lot of the time. I wasn’t living with her when she died; social services took my sister and I out of there a few months ago, and momma died from a drug overdose after that.”

“Ah shit, I didn’t know that.” Luke shakes his head. “Mrs Cullen didn’t tell me how Maddie died, and that’s…ah fuck it, that’s such a waste. Maddie was a wild thing at high school, but she was funny and smart…I’m really sorry to hear that she ended up that way.” He finishes the rest of his soda. “Is it better for you now? I mean, I was in the foster care system myself for a while and I know damn well it isn’t always good, but Mrs Cullen sounded like one of the good ones when I talked to her on the phone.”

“The Cullens are really great,” I say, tipping out the package of M&Ms and arranging then in rainbow order before I eat them. “They took Alice and I in and have taken care of everything, and now they’ve asked to adopt us.”

“You’re happy with them? It’s a good family?” Luke waits until I nod, and then grins. “Then run with this adoption and don’t look back. This is a great chance you’ve got to change your life. Make the most of it.”

“I will.”

“Is there anything else you want to know? Or can you tell me something about yourself?” Luke looks embarrassed. “I mean, I’m looking at you and you’re nearly a man…of course I knew you’d have to be by now, but time passes in all kinds of fucked up ways in here and it still feels real strange to see Maddie’s baby almost grown. Mrs Cullen said you’re still in school; what’s that, eleventh grade? You going to go to college?”

“Yeah, it’s eleventh grade but college isn’t going to happen. School is _really_ not my thing. I’ve got dyslexia, and it’s honestly a miracle that I’ve got this far considering how bad my grades are,” I say. “I’m doing a bit better this year, but only because they’ve put me in special ed.”

“Really?” Luke looks interested. “My teacher in here, who helped me get my GED, said she thought I might have something like dyslexia. That’s the reading thing, right? She couldn’t get me tested officially or anything, but she gave me some tests and said that would explain it…I was always shit at school, and even busting my ass in here it took me twice as long to pass the exam as the other guys.”

“They didn’t diagnose my dyslexia until this year, but when they did they said it runs in families.” I look over at him with a grin. “So I can’t read and I’m likely to turn into an alcoholic…any other fun genetic stuff you’ve got for me?”

Luke stares at me for a moment and then laughs. “When you look at it that way…shit, sorry kiddo. Uh, honestly not much. Marrons have been killing themselves with alcohol for generations, but if you stay off the sauce you’ll probably be right. My grandma and my great aunties who _didn’t_ drink are all alive into their nineties. We breed ‘em big and dumb and healthy I guess.”

“Good to know.” I eat the last of the M&Ms and finish my soda before I say slowly, “Thanks for just signing the papers, by the way. It makes the whole adoption thing a lot easier.”

“It was the least I could do, and I really hope it works out for you,” Luke says. “And I want to say thank you again for coming today. I wouldn’t have blamed you for not wanting to give me the time of day, and it means a lot that you’ve given me the chance to say sorry.”

“A couple of years ago I probably wouldn’t have given you the time of day,” I say honestly. “There were some bad years with my stepfather, and for a while there my whole life was a disaster and I blamed you for part of that. But I’ve got Carlisle now, and even without an adoption making it official he’s really been there for me through some pretty tough times. I’m happy where I am now, with him and Esme being my parents. But I think I’m glad I came here today to meet you. It feels…complete I guess. I mean, now I have a face and at least a little bit of knowledge, and I know that it wasn’t about me personally. That feels like enough.”

_______________________________________

Carlisle looks up from the medical journals when I open the car door. “Okay?” he asks.

I slip into the passenger seat. “Yeah, all good.”

I don’t offer any more details and he looks at me carefully for a moment and then doesn’t ask. We drive without speaking for a long time, as I stare out the window and think about Luke back in prison and Carlisle sitting right here beside me, humming along with the radio.

“Hey Carlisle? Thanks,” I say abruptly.

He doesn’t ask me what for. He just smiles, and reaches out to gently touch my shoulder. “Let’s go home,” he says. And we do.


	49. Finalisation

 

It feels strange bumping along the once familiar driveway to my old house, with Carlisle in the front seat beside me. It’s been six months since Momma died and I was last out here, and at the time I’d thought it might be the last time I’d ever see the place. But when Carlisle asked if I’d go out there with him this weekend so he could show me something, I’d been curious enough to agree.

At first I almost think he’s brought me to the wrong place. It’s still the same house, still run down and kind of dilapidated, but someone’s cleaned it up and the difference is staggering. It’s been power-washed it so that even thought the paint is still peeling the house itself looks brighter. All the junked cars and trash have been removed from the yard and the fresh spring growth of grass has been cut neat, the gravel driveway graded so it’s not covered in weeds.

As Carlisle draws to a stop in front of the porch steps I step slowly out of the car, staring at the house in front of me. Glancing past the house I notice that enough of the undergrowth has been cleared that I can see glimpses of the river at the bottom of the slope.

“What do you think?” Carlisle asks, standing beside me.

“Did you do this?” I ask.

He laughs. “Not personally. We had an industrial cleaning crew go through and decontaminate the house, and we thought we might as well sort the yard out too. Makes a difference, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does…why are we here?”

“Well, when your mom died the house passed to you and Alice. The lawyer has sorted out most of her estate and we’re going to have to make some decisions about what you want to do with it. I thought we should come out and take a look first.”

Walking through the empty house feels like a dream. Even carpets and curtains have been stripped out, and our footsteps echo on the hardwood floors as we move from room to room. I see the marks on the kitchen doorframe where my Grandma measured my growth, and Momma’s before me, and find the place in my bedroom where I wrote my name and drew a robot on the wall when I was a little kid. Carlisle laughs, and then we sit together on the back porch steps, looking across the meadow of grass down to the river, shielding our eyes against the slanting afternoon sun.

“Did you know your great-grandfather built this house?” Carlisle asks.

I shake my head. “No…I knew my grandma grew up in it, but I didn’t know that her family built it.”

“We looked into the county land records. It’s been in your family for a while.” Carlisle is quiet for a while. “You’ve got a few options with it now.”

“I thought it would have to be sold,” I say.

“That’s one option, but it’s not the only one. If you want the house for yourself, then we can do that too.” Carlisle gives me a quick glance. “I know that your life in this house wasn’t always a happy one, and it would be understandable if you wanted to just move on and not look back. But I also know how much you loved your grandmother, and you’ve also spoken fondly of growing up here with her.”

“So I could keep this house? I thought we had to sell it to pay off Momma’s debts.”

“It’s complicated, but basically if you want the house I can make it happen. Even if you just want the possibility of living here one day, we can rent the house out for enough to cover taxes and repay your mom’s debts for now. Keeping it wouldn’t be a terrible investment anyway. Cosmetically the house is a little rough, but structurally it’s in good shape. The land is close to town and on the river, and with housing development moving out this way it’s probably going to increase in value so you would make something from selling it in the future.” Carlisle shrugs. “If you don’t want it, we’ll sell it and the money will go into trust for you and Alice.”

“What about Alice if I want to keep it?” I ask.

“I don’t think Alice is ever going to have any sentimental attachment to this house,” Carlisle says slowly. “I don’t foresee a situation where you both want to live here. Of course she is entitled to half the value of it, and if you took it over yourself in the future you would have to buy her out. But we can arrange that when we get to it.”

I stare at the glitter of sunlight reflecting off the water. “I don’t know what I think.”

Carlisle nods. “I know I’m just springing this on you. I don’t want you to feel pressured either way – there are pros and cons to both keep and selling the house, and there’s no right or wrong choice. But I think you’re old enough that I should at least ask your opinion on it before settling your mom’s estate.”

Six months ago when Momma died I wanted to burn the place to the ground. But sitting here in the sun, watching the grass shift in the breeze and thinking about being a kid here, I can’t help feeling differently. It wasn’t all bad. There was the river, and building playhouses in the grove of trees with discarded pallets and sheets of tin, and growing potatoes with my grandma. There was the porch swing and climbing trees and watching baby Alice learn to walk in the grass. There was my grandma, and my Momma when she was good. Now, sitting here with this man who wants to be my father feels peaceful, and I like it. I try and imagine being here as an adult, on my own or maybe even with Rosalie, painting the siding and replanting my grandma’s garden, maybe one day with my own little kid…

“I’ll think about it,” I say to Carlisle at last.

______________________________________________________

I fasten the last buttons on my shirt and then tuck it in, making a face at how much tighter the pants of my suit feel than they did when I bought them six months ago for Momma’s funeral. I’m not fat, but damn if I’m not still getting bigger. Just last week Esme complained that the food budget has practically doubled since I turned up on the doorstep, and during pre-season baseball training I’ve somehow managed to lay down a bunch of muscle.

I grab my jacket and tie off the hanger and go out to the kitchen. Carlisle is already dressed in his suit and doing the newspaper crossword at the table, and he looks up at me with a smile. “All ready?”

“Can you do this up?” I hold out the tie.

“I’ll show you how,” he says, unthreading his own tie and guiding me into the piano room so that we’re standing side by side, facing into the mirror above the fireplace. “Do what I do…wide end over the small end to the left, then up into the neck loop from underneath…that’s it, now down to the left…”

My fingers feel clumsy and uncertain, but I copy his movements in the mirror and just like that I’ve tied my first tie into a neat knot. It still feels like a noose around my neck, but at least it looks good. “Hey look, I did it. Thanks.”

Carlisle’s eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he smiles. “It’s a father’s job, I guess.”

I laugh, feeling the most ridiculous balloon of happiness swelling in my chest. “Well we _are_ making that official today.”

“Finally!” Carlisle says. “I feel like I’ve worn my fingers down to stumps signing all that paperwork.” He gives me a friendly grin. “It’ll be great to have the adoption finalised so we can just feel like a family, without all the lawyers and social workers being involved.”

I heartily agree with that. Mara is a pretty cool person and I know she’s worked really hard to get Alice and I settled ever since our case file crossed her desk, but I hate the constant scrutiny and judgement of my life.

A sudden flash of light makes me jump, and I turn to find Rosalie’s mum, Lily, in the doorway with her camera. “Should be a nice shot, the two of you in the mirror doing your ties,” she says to Carlisle. “Esme and Alice are all ready, so if you want to come outside I’ll do some family shots out there.”

“Yes, great,” Carlisle says. ”Emmett, will you go and get Edward?”

I roll my eyes. “Was this really necessary? Adoption paparazzi?” I grin at Lily. “No offence meant, of course!”

“None taken,” Lily says cheerfully. “And Esme wanted photos, so if you wouldn’t mind putting a smile on that handsome face and showing me some dimples, that would be great!” She takes another snap as I laugh.

The truth is, I don’t really mind. Finalising the adoption today is something we’ve been looking forward to for months, and it _should_ be celebrated and commemorated. Looking at Esme and Carlisle and Edward and knowing that after today I’ll really belong with them and they’ll belong with me…well, that makes it easy to smile. Even for Lily and her obnoxious camera.

“Emmett!” As I go out into the yard Alice twirls in front of me. Her dress, a pink thing with layers of skirts that fly out around her as she spins, makes her look like she belongs in a wedding party. “Isn’t my dress beautiful? And do you like how Esme did my hair so fancy?”

I swoop her up in my arms. “You look gorgeous…so pretty I can hardly believe you’re my Monkey-face!”

Alice hugs me tightly. “This is the best day. Nothing will stop it now, right? The judge won’t say no?” she whispers.

I bump my forehead against hers and meet her eyes. “No way. Remember, today at the courthouse is just the final step; the judge has all the reports that say how good Carlisle and Esme are at being our mom and dad and they’re just going to make sure that it’s what you and I really want, and then sign it. Today makes it all real and then you’ll be Alice Cullen and this will be our family forever. Nothing is going to stop it happening now.”

“It’s all just a formality today,” Esme says, overhearing. “Everything has been approved and verified and witnessed and signed…today is about putting the final stamp on it, and celebrating my two newest babies.” She wraps her arms as far as they’ll go around Alice and I and hugs us, before stepping back and fanning her eyes, which I can see are shining. “Oh dear…I hope this waterproof mascara lives up to its reputation or I’m going to be an absolute mess!”

“Don’t cry.” Alice lurches out of my arms and towards Esme, who catches her deftly. “It’s happy!”

“It’s definitely a very happy day,” Esme says, kissing Alice’s forehead. “These are the very happiest of tears…but even happy crying might smudge my make up, so lets do these photos while everyone is all fresh and clean!”

Lily takes a bunch of photos in the yard, and follows us to the courthouse downtown and makes us pose for pictures there as well. Esme is going to have enough photos from today to fill a whole album.

Mara meets us at the door to family court and hugs everybody, even Edward. “I’m so happy for you guys!” she exclaims. “Seeing whole, happy families…this is the part of my job that I really love.” She squeezes my hand, and I smile back at her.

It’s not a happy ending without a tiny sting in it. This new family of mine is only possible because my old family fell apart, and even when this feels like winning for me I live with the knowledge that my momma never found her own happiness. But I can’t let that bitterness poison this good thing that I have. This family…this is what I have now, and I will love it and cherish it for the rest of my life.

When our case is finally called we go into the courtroom and take our seats before the bench. It’s pretty much what I expected, a lot of wood panelling and some official looking crests and flags for decoration, but for all I told Alice not to worry about it I can’t help my fist from drifting up to my mouth and my teeth scraping across my knuckles. It doesn’t help that I have to be officially sworn in alongside Carlisle and Esme either.

But the judge is smiling, and there’s no complicated jargon or heated interrogations for this. Instead, he asks Carlisle and Esme some basic questions about their home and family, and what they do, and then asks them a few questions about Alice and I, and the process that’s brought us to this point.

“And what about you, Emmett?” he says, turning his attention to me. “You’re in favour of this adoption?”

I squirm. “Yeah…I want this.”

Alice, evidently not in the least bit intimidated by the situation, has raised her hand like she’s in school and is practically jumping up and down wanting attention. Amused, the judge nods at her.

“Well young lady, you seem to have something you want to say…do you agree with this adoption?”

“Yes!” Alice beams at him. “I really do. Because our old mom wasn’t that good - actually she was pretty mean - but Carlisle and Esme are so nice and they do everything like they’re supposed to….there’s always lots of food and they make me eat vegetables, and they do my reading homework, and Esme came on the field trip, and they helped Emmett at school because he’s got…I forget what it’s called but he can’t read that good…and Carlisle and Esme are so smart they can even do high school homework. And they make us do all the things like car seats and wear a bike helmet and clean my teeth which I never used to do so when they took me to the dentist I had to get six fillings but now I have to brush two times a day and soda is only for special occasions – like today - …and their house is so big and clean and we all even have our own rooms…well, not Esme and Carlisle because they like to share, so just me and Emmett and Edward…although sometimes I still sleep with Emmett if I get scared but mostly now I just sleep in my own bed with Catkin – that’s our cat – because Esme helped me fix up my room so it’s decorated with rainbows and unicorns and cats. And I think Edward should be my real brother like Emmett, because he teaches me to play the piano…he’s really good and he actually wrote me a song for my birthday, which was so cool…and Esme and Carlisle are a really good mom and dad because they never yell, not even when Emmett drove the car into the garage door and made it so bent that it couldn’t roll anymore…”

Even the judge is laughing as I reach over and clap my hand across Alice’s mouth to stop her talking. “Monkey, a simple yes or no would have been enough!”

“I just wanted to _say_ ,” she says indignantly.

“I completely understand, Alice,” the judge says. “It sounds like you’re very happy with your new family, and that Carlisle and Esme are doing an excellent job. In fact, I think the whole family wants to make this permanent…are you ready for that?”

“Yes!” Alice shouts, and even though I’m not as loud my agreement isn’t any less heartfelt.

_Yes. Yes, I want this. Yes, this is my family._

“Congratulations then Cullens, you’re officially a family.” The judge smiles at us all, and picks up his pen to sign the papers.

There’s a confusing jumble of hugs and embraces then, and Esme’s waterproof mascara is certainly put to the test as she cries over everyone. Lily takes photos of us all in various groupings, including some with the judge. He shakes everyone’s hands and wishes us all luck, and then lets Alice bang his gavel to round things off and just like that it’s done. We’re legally a family.

We’ve invited everyone we know for a celebration party, and I’m highly amused when we get back home after court to find Rosalie and Jack decorating the house like the world’s biggest baby shower. The place is dripping in pink and blue balloons, and giant ‘It’s a boy!’ and ‘It’s a girl!’ banners are strung up over a table laden with food.

“Congratulations Emmett Cullen,” Rosalie murmurs, winding her arms around my neck.

I pull her closer and kiss her through my smile. “Thanks…I think it’s going to take me a while to get used to that name though.”

“I like it,” Rosalie declares. “And it’ll put you next to Edward in the year book…you’ll look even better next to that geek,” she adds in a louder voice, with a grin at Edward as he comes over.

He rolls his eyes at her. “Good to know you’re always ready with the compliments Rosalie. And you,” he pokes me in the arm. “Aren’t you supposed to be defending your brother?”

“Hey, I’m not getting in the middle of this; you two can duke it out between yourselves,” I say amiably. “And since you’re now legally my brother and I _can’t_ get rid of you, and _you_ are so beautiful I don’t even want to think about living without you, you’re both going to just have to learn to get along.”

Laughing I reach out and drag Edward into the hug with Rosalie, and despite his look of horror he lets me, breaking out into laughter himself when I plant smacking kisses on both of their cheeks.

“See how easy it is?” I say. “Plenty of love to go around.”

Love surrounds us. Rosalie’s family, friends from school, Mara, Alice’s teacher, people who work with Carlisle and Esme…they are all here because they love us and they wish us well on this new chapter of our lives. They want to celebrate this family that we’ve created from the broken pieces of what we had before, because that’s something that deserves celebrating.

Before we eat, Carlisle gathers Alice into his arms and then has Edward and I stand beside he and Esme while he calls everyone’s attention and asks for a toast. “Thank you all for coming today – it means a lot to have you all here to share in this special occasion. Esme and I feel as though we’ve been blessed beyond measure to have found Emmett and Alice, as well as Edward, and we can’t believe how lucky we are that they’ve done us the honour of wanting to join our family. We love you all.” His eyes meet mine, and this time Esme’s not the only one with tears in their eyes. “So I’d ask you all to raise a glass to the good health and happiness of my beautiful family!”

Everyone cheers, and I turn and hug Carlisle, so that no one is going to see my face. Esme kisses my cheek and Edward presses in close on the other side, so I feel surrounded by all the people who are mine and for one shining moment of happiness it all feels perfect.

This is my family, this is my home…this is where my heart is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – The end! Thank you to everyone who has read and responded to– people have been so lovely and generous with their love and support of this story and I appreciate it so much! I love my little fictional babies, and I love knowing that people are taking them to heart and feeling emotionally connected to the story. So thank you to everyone who has ever taken the time to let me know that they are reading and enjoying!  
> I’m having a really hard time letting this one go, so there may be a sequel of sorts (I can’t promise, but I’m trying) – so you can follow me to get an alert for that if you want. Otherwise, just thank you for reading and thank you for messaging and letting me ramble on even more!


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